Where I Stand
by Apocrypha Glibbe
Summary: Three months after Dave Karofsky is released from the hospital, he and Kurt try to figure out exactly where they fit into one another's lives. Story arc is Klaine - Klainofsky smut - eventual Kurtofsky, for those who need to know these things going in.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt and Dave had spent a lot of time together over the past few months, and at first the proximity had made them so comfortable with each other: Kurt would reach for his hand as Dave talked through some argument with him mom or a confrontation with some idiot in Group. Dave got used to reaching out to hug Kurt goodbye, or putting his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder to show that he appreciated how much Kurt was helping him. It had become a habit, a sign that they were friends now, and could touch in casual ways and neither of them got spooked or worried about how the other interpreted things. It was pretty great, actually.

But more and more over the past couple of weeks, he noticed that Kurt kept his arms crossed over his chest when they were sitting together, and only leaned into him for the briefest moment before heading back home, or to Blaine's or shopping. A few days previously, Kurt had awkwardly patted Dave on the back for a second before bolting to his car. Dave tried to puzzle it out, why things had changed, but that just made him lose track of what he was doing with this stupid tie and he could not manage to get it knotted properly. Kurt had taught him the difference between a half- and full-Windsor for just this occasion, but his fingers fumbled over the black silk.

"Stop. I'll do it." Kurt appeared in the doorway of Dave's room; his dad had moved him down to the guest room when he'd been released from the hospital. There was nothing but boxes and spiders in the attic now to keep his demons company. Even though his new room was a lot smaller than his old room had been, it felt a lot more comfortable.

"Nah, I can do it."

Kurt pursed his lips and watched as Dave tied a full-Windsor and dimpled it perfectly before realizing that the skinny end hung a good six inches lower than it should have. He held up his hands and let Kurt take over.

"You'd really think I'd be better at tying things around my neck…"

"Stop it." Kurt untied the knot and reworked a new one in less than a minute.

"I forgot you don't like _gallows_ _humor_." Dave wiggled his eyebrows as he emphasized the last words.

"Don't." He stepped back to admire Dave in his tuxedo.

David looked at himself in the mirror. Kurt really had known what he was doing when he'd insisted on this suit: the whole thing was tailored very close to his body and made him look more built than boxy. "I don't even look like me. I'll never make it through the whole evening without busting a seam on this thing."

"You'll be fine. Just hang in there." Kurt waited a beat and then gave Dave a look out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Oh my god! You did not just say that? That is so wrong!" Dave beamed at Kurt, who allowed himself a brief, proud smile, though he blushed furiously. "You referenced The Act and made a pun in the same sentence! I am so freaking proud of you right now!" David moved to throw an arm around Kurt, but the boy casually danced out of his reach and headed for the hallway.

"Come on. Blaine and the rest of the crew are downstairs in the limo."

Dave nodded, trying not to feel hurt by Kurt's sudden aversion to being near him. Maybe it was part of some new mental health rubric Blaine had implemented and Dave just hadn't gotten the memo. Man, that guy had been in therapy too long. Dave couldn't follow half of what he said, but Blaine was always trying to find ways of making Dave feel like part of the community, so he couldn't hold it against him. He also never gave Dave crap about spending so much time with Kurt which, as the dude's boyfriend, he could legitimately have had a problem with. Dave stuffed his wallet into a jacket pocket and wondered if there was enough room in there for his paranoia, too.

It had actually been Blaine's idea, the whole "Group Date" for Prom. Dave had only been off home school and back in classes for a few weeks; he sure as hell didn't have anything like a date yet. He might have considered going stag, but frankly, skipping it and just watching a basketball game sounded pretty sweet. Then Kurt started in with the "David, it's your senior prom;' and "David, I thought you were going to take advantage of the few good things Lima has to offer;" and ultimately, "I demand that you go, David, or I will let Blaine set you up with some random Warbler."

And he was glad he was there, sitting in the limo with Kurt and Blaine, Santana and Brittany, and Mr. and Mrs. Hudson. He was glad, because even though he was the fifth (okay, seventh) wheel, it felt good to be surrounded by people who really _got it_.

They arrived with the party in full swing. Dave was pretty sure that he understood the meaning behind Puck's satisfied grin as he gestured towards the refreshments, but Dave was on some pretty serious anti-depressants and just shook his head, knowing his shrink would pitch a fit if he poured alcohol into the mix.

Kurt and Blaine, however, made a beeline to the punch and stood in front of the table, holding hands and drinking cupfuls of the bright pink stuff until they were both looking rather pink themselves.

Santana asked Dave to come dance, and he joined her and Brittany on the dance floor for a rousing tribute to LMFAO. They kept dancing, other friends weaving in and out of the circle until the DJ played "Friday" and Santana burst into tears. She threw her arms around Dave, crying against his neck that she was so glad they had both made it to this moment. Brittany pealed her off of Dave, explaining that Santana "always had a lot of feels around the holidays," before pulling her into the bathroom to fix her face.

Dave watched them go, shaking his head at what a soft touch Santana Lopez had turned out to be; she'd seemed so hard-core to him last year when she'd blackmailed him into being her prom date. His vision snapped back into the present, and he noticed Kurt smiling at him from a few feet away.

"What?"

"You look nice tonight, David."

"For a dead guy."

Kurt tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. "No. For a dead guy you look absolutely stunning."

"Jesus, Hummel. How much punch did you drink?"

"Oh, let me just enjoy it. I never get to drink. And there's a limo, David. L.I.M.O."

"You know, for a minute there, I thought you were trying to spell "Lima" and were just too wasted to pull it off."

Kurt raised his chin and tried to look down his nose at him, but David was just too tall. "Blaine is right. You totally use banter as a defense against your dark erotic impulses."

If he'd been drinking at that moment, David would surely have become a human fountain. As it was, he blinked at Kurt with his mouth hanging open, a look somewhere between panic and indignation on his face.

Luckily, Kurt was too tipsy to hold his deadpan and almost fell down from laughing. Dave reached out an arm to support Kurt as he doubled over, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders heaving. For the first time in what felt like a long time, Kurt didn't tense up or move away — quite the opposite. Kurt wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up straight, pressing back against Dave's arm from bicep to fingertips. Dave gave Kurt's hip a gentle squeeze, and he smiled shyly at Kurt's profile when the boy looked quickly to the stage.

"Blaine's song!"

Dave thought he meant that it was some sort of "couple song" for Kurt and Blaine, but when he followed Kurt's gaze to the front of the auditorium, he saw that Blaine was in fact standing there with a microphone and backup singers. The first few chords played and Dave recognized the song.

"Dude, why is Blaine singing this song? It's a major downer. This was, like, on my "Songs to Die By" playlist and shit."

Kurt stuck an elbow into Dave's ribs and closed his eyes. "Nooooo, you morbid creature. It's really very romantic." Kurt's eyes snapped opened. "But I don't know why he's singing it, he knows this song reminds me—"

The sentence hung in the air unfinished as Blaine started to sing. "Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain. Once or twice was enough, and it was all in vain."*** He'd slowed it down some, and made it almost jazzy. Dave decided it actually sounded pretty good, but it was still super depressing.

"Do you think you could dance with me, David?" Kurt looked at David earnestly. Dave let his arm drop against his side and fought the urge to stick both of his hands in his pockets.

"Well, I'm sure I _could_, Kurt, but if you're asking if I _will_…"

"Don't joke for a minute, okay? I'm asking. Will you dance with me?"

Dave licked his lips and glanced quickly around the room. Everyone seemed to be dancing, and no one was really paying them any attention. He nodded and Kurt grabbed his hand and tugged him a little closer to the edge of the dance floor. Kurt slipped his arms around Dave's neck and Dave tried to remember that this was totally fine, totally normal, just two friends having a dance at their senior prom. It was just Kurt. Just Kurt fucking Hummel. His friend Kurt. He put his hands firmly on Kurt's hips so that he wouldn't be able to tell if they were shaking or not.

And it was nice. Really nice. Kurt looked up at him and nodded, a condescending smile on his face. Dave rolled his eyes and stepped back, taking Kurt's hand and spinning him in a tight circle before drawing him back to his chest, his hand holding Kurt's against his heart. He moved in time to the music, rocking Kurt with him, guiding them in a circle around their little corner of the room. He drew Kurt out to arm's length and smirked at him, then suddenly reeled him back in so that Dave's chest was pressed to Kurt's back as they swayed. Spining him to dance face to face again, Dave looked at Kurt and prompted, "Huh? I'm a boss, right?"

"Why, Mr. Karofsky, I had no idea you were so light on your feet."

"Why, Mr. Hummel! You really should have known: I'm sure you've heard that I'm a little light in the loafers?" Kurt grimaced but laid his head and Dave's shoulder.

"How can you make a joke out of everything now when a few months ago you were so miserable, David?"

Dave leaned his cheek against Kurt's hair, amazed that it was so soft, in spite of looking styled for a runway. Did his hair just _grow_ like that? "I've had a lot of help. And it was the best kind of help, because it came from someone who loves me and accepts me for who I am." He pulled Kurt tighter against him, and placed a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Thanks, by the way. I don't think I say that enough."

"You say it plenty."

They stayed like that, barely moving to the beat as the song drew to a close and the next one started. Dave heard the strummy opening notes of "Iris" as Kurt jerked out of his arms.

"Oh, for god's sake. Now he's just messing with me!" Kurt glared up at the stage, where Blaine gave him an exaggerated wink and began to sing.

"What?" Dave looked from Blaine and Kurt, clearly confused.

"Nothing. Just Blaine's idea of a joke. Or a lesson. Something." He looked at his feet for a moment before squaring his shoulders and meeting Dave's eyes again. "Blaine thinks you have feelings for me." When Dave just continued to stare at him, Kurt added. "_Romantic _feelings_."_

Now it was Dave's turn to laugh until he could barely stand. Kurt stood there, looking imperious, until Dave regained his composure.

"You don't have to laugh at me, you know. It's not like it was my stupid idea."

Dave looked like he wasn't quite sure anymore what the joke was. "I'm sorry, Kurt, it's just… Was there some question about that? Because I think I was pretty clear with the cards and the candy and the monkey suit and this," he gestured to his tuxedo, "_this_ monkey suit is also a pretty good indication of where I stand."

*** "Bleeding Love" by Leona Lewis (which has always been my go-to Dave & Kurt song.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine had started this whole mess back in April, Kurt thought, when he'd insisted on analyzing every little detail of the situation.

Blaine was sitting at his desk, reading, when Kurt woke up. He blinked at the black-haired boy and groaned. Out the window, he could see that night had fallen.

"Blaine Anderson, you are the worst alarm clock ever. What time is it? I'm supposed to be home for dinner. Carole's making spaghetti squash and I have to convince my dad it really does taste "just like spaghetti.""

"I called your house and let them know you weren't feeling well and were taking a nap over here. Carole thinks your dad will pull through dinner without you."

A wicked smile spread across Kurt's face. "You lied to my parents so that you could keep me here and have your way with me, didn't you?"

Blaine came to sit next to Kurt on the bed. "Not exactly. I need to talk to you about something and I wanted to make sure we had enough time."

Kurt pushed himself upright against the headboard, then hesitated. "Wait, should I be sitting up or lying down for this discussion? If you made out with Smythe, I will gnaw your thumbs off."

Laughing softly, Blaine took Kurt's hand. "Nothing like that. It's about you, actually. Well, you and Dave."

Kurt's face registered surprise. "Me and Dave what? Are you _finally_ getting jealous? Because that would be outstanding. I could torment you by casually bringing up all of David's great qualities and his many talents and his witty bon mots and then downplay all of your suspicions by insisting you are just being silly. Oh no, wait. That's what you do with _Sebastian_." Kurt raised an eyebrow and waited for Blaine to continue.

"I'm not jealous. I'm just… I'm a bit concerned-"

"Again? Or still?" Kurt exhaled and looked away from his boyfriend. "I wish people would give David a little more credit. He's not going to revert to knuckle-dragging just because he's coming back to McKinley. It's actually pretty hard to squeeze yourself _into_ the closet once you're out, you know."

Blaine leaned into his field of vision. "Hey, not that kind of concerned. And I'm not actually worried about you at all. I trust Dave. I know what he's been through, and I know that he'd rather die than hurt you-" Kurt gave him a pained look. "Bad word choice, sorry. I know he'd never do anything to hurt you." Kurt looked at him expectantly, waiting for the "but…"

"I'm worried about Dave. He's so dependent on you, Kurt. You guys spend, what? Two or three days together every week?"

Kurt shrugged. "You're there half the time, too. And he goes to Group. It's not like I'm the only person he sees."

"I know. And I get that you want to help him,"

"It's not a pity party, Blaine. I like David. We're friends. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of that."

Blaine stood up and paced around the room for a minute. "I'm not saying this very well. I think it's great that Dave has you. You are generous and kind and you gave this kid a second chance, after all that he put you through: that's amazing. I love that about you. But I think you might need to think about what Dave needs in the long term, now that he's doing so much better with… everything else."

Kurt followed Blaine with his eyes, watching the boy move anxiously around his room. "What he needs long term? Like, where's he going to college? How does a gay kid from Lima become a big-city sports agent?"

"No. I mean, sure, those are good questions, too. But-" he stopped pacing and met Kurt's gaze. "I _mean_, don't you think Dave should have someone special in his life, some really great guy? Shouldn't he at least want to, or think about it?"

Kurt pressed his lips together to keep from grinning at his ridiculously sweet boyfriend. "Blaine? You canceled my dinner plans and went all "Dr. Anderson, Super Shrink" on me about _finding David a boyfriend_?"

"Sort of." He moved back to the bed and held both of Kurt's hands in his. "But more about how Dave kind of already _has_ a boyfriend."

It took Kurt a full ten seconds of meaningful eye contact before he understood what Blaine was trying to tell him.

"That's really not funny. And a little bit offensive. Are you asking me if-"

"Look at it objectively, Kurt. Here's Dave, this confused kid in a lot of trouble, and here's you, this beautiful, strong young man, coming to his rescue."

Kurt snorted. "I think you've got your typecasting on wrong, there, but go ahead."

"So, here he is, totally working on his issues, coming to terms with himself, and there you are, this amazing guy, by his side whenever he needs you. Telling him how great he is. Telling him how wonderful his life is going to be. You're the perfect boyfriend."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not-"

"But how does Dave know? You go out, you joke, you hold hands; you give him comfort and acceptance and-"

"Sex."

Blaine sputtered. "Wh-what?"

"Well, I assume David and I must be having all this great sex, right? Or is that no longer a part of the boyfriend package?"

Blaine closed his eyes and took a breath. "I know you're not, Kurt. I'm not accusing you of anything, I promise. But actual sex is just a formality. Do you really think he isn't… _responsive_ to you in that way?"

Kurt opened his mouth to answer, but found he didn't have anything to say.

"Just - just think about it, okay? Dave's gone through a lot, and you've both been wrapped up in that. But when he's not just _getting by_ anymore, when he's ready to really be a part of the world and experience life, make sure he's prepared to do that with someone who's not you."

And just like that, the idea of a _responsive_ David Karofsky was in his head. Think about it? Kurt found he couldn't think about much else. He went back through the past couple of months in minutiae, trying to pinpoint any moments when he and David had crossed the line from friendly to something else, and he couldn't find a moment that qualified. Had he been leading David on without realizing it? Had David really sat next to him on the couch, holding his hand and talking about everything, and felt… things?

The next time Kurt met David for coffee at the Lima Bean, he turned about six shades of red. Dave hadn't noticed, or at least he hadn't said anything, but for the rest of the afternoon, Kurt felt David's presence across the table as though it were a glowing bonfire. He kept his hands wrapped tightly around his mug the whole time, trying to keep the conversation going but really wondering what was going on in David's head - and body - every time they made eye contact. When it was time to go, they walked to the parking lot together, but when Dave leaned in to give him a hug, Kurt pretended to drop his keys and ducked out of Dave's embrace. Behind the wheel, he watched Dave drive off, but he remained rooted to the spot, trying to calm his breathing and his racing thoughts.

Because the more he thought about it, the more the idea was a kind of filter that colored everything. Did Dave think about them being together? Did Dave think they were together now? Did Dave respond to their physical contact, no matter how platonic it seemed, with desire?

It's not that the idea was awful: Kurt wasn't disgusted or offended. At all. But he heard what Blaine was saying loud and clear, and the thought that he was hurting Dave in any way was unbearable to him. He decided it would be smart to keep the boundaries of their relationship crystal clear. David wasn't a baby, he didn't need someone to hold his had all the time. And he was a jock, so he probably didn't want to hug it out every time they said goodbye. Kurt convinced himself that he was making everybody in the situation a lot more comfortable by just putting a little distance between himself and David's - totally hypothetical - responses.

Blaine picked up on the change immediately and seemed pleased by Kurt's decision, though they didn't talk about it much. The week before prom, when Blaine asked Kurt if he thought it would be a good idea to do a group date so that everyone would feel included, Kurt knew he meant Dave, and he was really grateful Blaine was such a thoughtful guy. Blaine and Kurt were alone in the limo as they drove to pick up Rachel and Finn, and Blaine took his hand. "I think you've done a really brave thing for Dave. I know it's been hard for you to put space between you two, and even if it didn't work the way I'd imagined, I'm proud that you tried."

Kurt smiled, kissing Blaine's palm. "What do you mean?"

"You know. Dave seems even more in love with you now than before."

The limo was slowing to a stop in front of the Berry's house, and Kurt felt the past three months lurch into his throat like a sob. He might as well have been standing in Breadstix again, with Dave pulling off that mask and telling Kurt how much he meant to him. Except this time, Kurt had months of knowing David and being his friend, and coming to care for him to contend with, too. Because the David who thought he loved Kurt in February had no real reason to, and was easier to dismiss; if this David, his David now, loved him, how was he supposed to deal with that? Kurt swallowed hard and took a shaky breath, telling Rachel how beautiful she looked as she and Finn climbed in beside him.

He told the rest of the group that he'd just run up and grab David, because "If he's sitting on the couch getting guacamole on that tux I'm going to kill him and I don't want witnesses." In reality, he just wanted a moment alone before he had to go on having the Best Prom Ever.

He let himself in through the front door and walked up one flight of stairs to Dave's new room. The door was open, and he stood there, bracing himself against the frame. He blinked back the tears that were suddenly in his eyes; he watched Dave's back as he struggled with his tie, his hands moving around his neck. How did David just _go on_ after he'd been so lost and without hope? He marveled at his friend, who always said that Kurt was the strong one and never gave himself any credit for the journey he'd been on.

"Stop. I'll do it." Dave spun around to face him with a smile that reached his eyes, his ears; Kurt thought he could probably tell David was smiling just by looking at his shoulders, sometimes. They stood there, just grinning at each other, until Dave's stubbornness kicked in and he tried again to get his tie knotted perfectly.

Even when they were in the limo and everyone was laughing and teasing one another, Kurt kept his eyes focused out the window, at the town passing by. He smiled to himself: the town wasn't going anywhere, was it? He was the one whizzing by too quickly to really understand what he was seeing.

In the auditorium, Blaine handed him a plastic cup full of god-awful spiked punch - how much rum had Puck put in this? Kurt's eyes watered as he took his first sip, but then he quickly downed the rest of the cup and held it out for a refill.

"Someone's feeling festive." Blaine looked at him curiously. "Are we celebrating?"

Kurt's eyes searched Blaine's face for a moment. "You are so incredibly handsome, you know that? I can't believe I get to be here with you."

Blaine's fingers brushed his own as he handed him another glass of punch. "Tell me why you're always the designated driver again?"

After a few more toasts, Blaine looked up at the stage. Mercedes, Brittany and Santana were already mounting the stairs, and he turned to Kurt with a smile. "We're doing a song or two tonight. Do me a favor and keep Dave company? He looks a little lost out there."

Kurt's eyes searched the crowd until he found Dave, deep in thought towards the edge of the crowd. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

Blaine put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I don't think anything we do tonight is going to change the course of history, Kurt. Have a good time. Make sure Dave has a good time. We can sort the rest of it out by the light of day."

Kurt nodded and watched Blaine start to weave his way to the front of the room. He trailed behind, stopping a few feet from Dave. When Dave saw him, Kurt bit his lip and smiled, trying to find some balance between his impulse to throw his arms around Dave's broad shoulders and his impulse to protect David from everything he could, even himself. When he found himself teasing Dave about his dark erotic impulses, though, he realized he probably should have stopped at the second cup of punch.

It was beyond him why Blaine would have ever, ever chosen to sing Bleeding Love after sending him to dance with Dave. He knew perfectly well that Kurt had kept that song - along with a few others - on pretty solid rotation during the weeks immediately following Dave's release from the hospital. Sure, it was a really dark headspace that made him pick that song, but it was what it was and Blaine _knew_ that. Of course Blaine knew that.

So he asked David to dance. And wow, did David dance. Kurt had only danced with Blaine (unless Finn counted, or his dad counted, and he thought they really didn't) and Blaine was a great dancer - but he danced like he was at a party, or show choir. David was dancing like they were in a black and white movie, and it was suddenly not David's responses that were confusing him, but his own. Kurt spun back into the other boy's arms and looked up at him, feeling his cheeks flush as the smile spread across Dave's face.

He let himself be wrapped in Dave's embrace and realized how much he'd missed the feel of that broad chest over the past few weeks. When Dave kissed the top of his head, Kurt had to fight to keep himself from raising his chin and letting their lips meet for just a moment, just a quick, soft moment when they could understand each other. But when the music changed, and Blaine segued into Iris, of all the possible songs in the world, Kurt was snapped back into a reality that was tipped off axis.

It wasn't that Kurt had expected David to deny he had those kinds of feelings for him - once he stopped laughing, anyhow. Dave wouldn't lie about it, and the whole thing seemed pretty obvious right at that moment. And it wasn't that anything David said was shocking: Blaine had been right. Of course Blaine had been right. But Kurt was reeling because he knew that he had been blind to the very conspicuous fact of David's feelings, and what was worse, he had at some point made the decision to be blind because _he liked it_. He liked being the center of David's universe, and he liked holding David's hand, and he liked being Dave's almost-boyfriend and the master of his uncharted but really beautiful heart.

Kurt breathed in through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth as though he were starving for air. Behind him, Blaine was singing the lyrics of that song - a song that Kurt associated with David, _which Blaine knew_ - and the music was swelling and Kurt didn't understand what he was supposed to do next.

"I'm with Blaine."

"I know. You said that last time, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Dave Karofsky was an iceberg in the shipping lane. That was how Blaine saw him, anyway. He could look out from his boat and see Dave on the horizon, every day looming a little larger, glinting a little brighter in the sun. There is nothing inherently wrong with an iceberg, keep in mind: Dave was a pretty affable guy on this side of the closet door, and Blaine found him charming in an artless, boyish sort of way. But Blaine was much more interested in chipping that ice into some sort of decorative swan than in crashing into it at full speed.

And Kurt! Kurt had eyes like a magpie and when the light hit Dave Karofsky just so, he could pass for a rough diamond.

It was very, very important that Kurt be steered away from the iceberg. For all that they're massive and seem to glow from within with that creepy, blueish light, icebergs will rip a hole right through your ship. Blaine came to the end of his metaphor and let himself be drawn back into the conversation.

"Group sucks, Kurt. You have no idea."

"I know that it gets you out of this house and away from the game console for two hours a week."

Kurt and Dave were sitting on opposite ends of the old corduroy sectional in Dave's basement. Kurt had his legs crossed neatly in front of him, but Dave was sprawled across the length of the cushions, his feet much too close to Kurt for the other boy's comfort. Every so often, when emphasizing his point, Dave would poke Kurt in the thigh with his foot.

From across the room, Blaine could sit almost unnoticed in an old leather armchair and watch the two of them trade jabs - Kurt's figurative and Dave's quite literal - until it was time to leave. He would often pretend to read, but most of the time he openly studied the interaction between the football player and the prince.

"Blaine, back me up here!" Dave turned his head to the side so that he was looking straight at Blaine's knees. He reached out and whacked one of them with the back of his hand. To his credit, Blaine winced only slightly.

"Oh, Group totally sucks. That doesn't mean it doesn't have anything valuable to offer you."

Dave poked Kurt in the hip with a surprisingly well-manicured toe. "Told you."

Kurt gave Dave a look of unspeakable disdain. "Are you kidding me? He just said the same thing I've been saying for twenty minutes, only with different words."

Poking him again, Dave said, "Yeah, but when Dr. Anderson says something, I actually believe it's true."

Kurt's hand flashed out and seized Dave's foot before the boy had time to react. He wrapped his hand around Dave's big toe and twisted it until Dave was screeching for him to stop.

"What the hell! Don't pull your ninja shit on me, Kurt. I'm fragile. Violence might trigger me."

Blaine nodded at Dave. "Excellent use of therapy vocab. Ten points to Hufflepuff."

"Not cool. I'm Slytherin and you know it."

Narrowing his eyes, Kurt tightened his grip on Dave's toe. "You've been out of the hospital for almost two months and you've spent most of that time blowing guys up on your computer."

"Dude, wanky."

Kurt tilted his head and wrenched Dave's toe to the side. Dave whimpered, scooting down the couch as Kurt pulled his foot up into the air.

"Say you're going to keep going to Group. Say it."

Dave sat up and tried to smack Kurt's hand away, but Kurt just shook his head.

"Say it, David, or I'll snap this toe right off."

Blaine cleared his throat and pushed himself up out of his chair. "Well, I love sublimation as much as the next gay high school student, but I think it's time for us to head out."

Kurt let go of David's foot and made a great show of wiping his hands off on his handkerchief. Before joining Blaine at the door, Kurt leaned down and brushed Dave's hair off his forehead with the back of his fingers. When he spoke, his voice had lost its supercilious tone; gently, he urged, "Go to group, David. We want you back at school." Figgins had made group therapy a condition of Dave's coming back to McKinley.

Dave swallowed hard. He nodded up at Kurt, who swooped down to kiss his cheek before bounding up the stairs.

"It's only, like, 4:30. You guys suck."

"And you say that like it's a bad thing." Blaine winked and slipped out the door before Dave could hurl something pointy at him.

Later that evening, Blaine watched Kurt sleep, thankful, as always, that The Andersons were not the sort of parents who were uptight about who was in his room — or the sort of parents who were ever home, for that matter. Blaine took advantage of his boyfriend's tendency to pass out after sex to figure out how best to broach the subject of Dave and the Impending Doom.

He knew Kurt would just shrug off any direct warning about Dave's role in their relationship — he thought Blaine was always over-analyzing things, as it was. And maybe he did fret about things, but someone had to, right? Relationships didn't just steer themselves. Someone had to notice the way Dave joked and teased Kurt until Kurt touched him in some way: a swat on the arm, a shoulder bump, a… a toe-job. Someone had to notice that no matter how flippant and crass Dave was, that was just bravado; Blaine saw how much of Dave's happiness and stability were tied up in Kurt and their boundary-free friendship. Kurt certainly didn't notice it, not in any conscious way: he scolded and rolled his eyes and got flustered at Dave's jokes and put his hands all over him like Dave was some sweet little kid and not a full-grown man with issues and hormones and needs. Dave had needs.

And just as though he'd seen it in the book he's pretending to read, Blaine knew which tack to take.

Blaine had given up a lot to accept Dave Karosfsky as a part of his life: in exchange for Kurt's gratitude and his position as Best Boyfriend Ever, Blaine gave up a lot of alone time with his boyfriend, and he gave up having anything like a normal reaction to this guy who, by all rights, he should hate. But he couldn't hate Dave. Dave was a sweetheart. Dave was a giant stuffed bear he and Kurt had won at some surreal carnival. He just didn't want to Dave to be the thing that sank this wonderful thing he had with Kurt.

So he'd offer a little guidance. Kurt would get the message and Blaine'd get full credit for being so damned perceptive.

When Kurt opened his eyes, Blaine was ready. He drew a clear, deep breath and began. After ten minutes, he could tell by the expression on Kurt's face that he'd made his point.

"Just - just think about it, okay? Dave's gone through a lot, and you've both been wrapped up in that. But when he's not just getting by anymore, when he's ready to really be a part of the world and experience life, make sure he's prepared to do that with someone who's not you."

And he knew Kurt would do the right thing.

Except that it absolutely backfired. Instead of distance, all that he'd created between Kurt and Dave was this heartbreaking _longing_. Dave still teased Kurt, looking for a reaction, but when it didn't come, or was too brief and awkward to count, there was nothing but misery left in the air between them. Misery and hormones and looks that were increasingly full of meaning.

The whole "just think about it" thing was not going to work, at all.

If Dave Karofsky couldn't be avoided, perhaps it would be better for Blaine to arrange some sort of "controlled collision." It would have to be carefully engineered: the right time and place, the right amount of contact, the right man at the helm. Blaine could pull this off: Prom, the perfect venue, was just around the corner.

Swaying above the student body of McKinley with his mic in hand was one of the better high school experiences for Blaine. It struck the right balance between being involved and being removed from the situation, between being a participant and being in control. Blaine loved it. If he'd lived in an earlier era, he thought, he would have been the bandleader for a jazz orchestra, dapper in his wide lapels, standing out front, taking the mic to croon his way into the heart of the crowd.

That's how he felt tonight as he looked down on Kurt and Dave: at first so hesitant, then laughing and smiling, and finally comfortable with one another as they danced. Dave was a surprisingly good dancer; impressive. Blaine watched as Dave spun Kurt and pulled him close, and smiled at the blush that crept up Kurt's cheeks. Dave's face radiated confidence and happiness in a way Blaine had never seen before. This was totally going to work.

He had a moment of doubt when he began his second song of the set and Kurt pulled out of Dave's arms abruptly, sending a disbelieving look up at Blaine. "It's okay, Kurt," Blaine thought to himself. Winking at his flustered boyfriend, Blaine hoped to rattle Kurt's rigid sense of propriety — this was not the time to get caught up in niceties and habits of decorum.

He watched Kurt draw Dave a little further from the crowd, and saw Dave's amusement — quickly followed by a look so naked and soul-bearing that Blaine had no doubt what he'd just confessed to Kurt.

Blaine hoped his timing was right: he wanted to rush through the final chorus of the song, but he couldn't very well do that The corners of Dave's mouth turned up in a soft, understanding smile and he said something that made Kurt shake his head ("I can't do this." Blaine guessed. Oh, Kurt…) and then walk right out of the auditorium, into the empty hallway beyond.

And right on cue, Dave looked up at the stage and directly at Blaine. Blaine could see how badly Dave wanted to run after Kurt, how his right arm was already moving in that direction, pointing at the still-swinging doors. In that moment, Blaine felt such affection for the jock — who was free to do whatever he wanted, he really didn't owe Blaine anything — who held himself still against every instinct. Dave Karofsky had certainly come a long, long way.

So Blaine nodded. It was just once, just one quick bob of his head while they stared at one another, and then Dave, too, disappeared.

Blaine finished the song. He took a bow before handing the microphone to Mercedes, and then descended the stairs to the dance floor in no particular hurry. In his head, he was calculating how far Kurt could have gotten before the desire to be found slowed his steps. He made a list of the places Dave would look as he searched the halls, calling Kurt's name in a stage whisper, still too self-conscious to yell outright in those echoing halls. Blaine stopped for a moment by the punch bowl, downing another glass in one long swallow because — as much as he had planned this evening down to the color of the flowers they all wore in their lapels — you never really know how things will work out…

And then he pushed open the doors and stepped into the hall. Without the writhing bodies of three hundred teenagers, the air in the halls was cool and surprisingly sweet on his face. He breathed deeply. He listened. He headed in the direction of the foreign language classrooms.


	4. Chapter 4

So, I've never done fanfic before, and if I have bad author etiquette, that would explain it!

Thank you thank you to all who have reviewed or are following this story. I'm kind of floored by this whole experience.

And thanks to my Beta, but I can't thank her properly because I don't know her handle on here. I'll fix that...

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><p>"Kurt!" He called as loudly as he dared, but he didn't exactly want to draw the attention of the staff or student body.<p>

Dave had no idea what was happening between Kurt and Blaine tonight, but he hated that he'd ended up in the middle of it somehow. He'd always been so careful to give their relationship a wide berth, not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable. Dave could handle whatever it cost him to keep things friendly and platonic with Kurt; he was never going to give Kurt a reason to bail on him because he'd asked for more than he had a right to expect. He'd done that twice before, and it had pretty much sucked both times.

"Kurt!"

He'd checked the locker rooms — girls' and boys' — because they were closest to the auditorium, but Kurt was nowhere to be found. Likewise, he hadn't been lurking in the choir room, or the bathrooms — girls' or boys' — anywhere in between. Dave didn't have a clue where to look after that, so he was just generally wandering around like an idiot until he heard a muffled sound from down the corridor. He stuck his head around a wall of lockers and saw Kurt sitting on the floor with his back against a classroom door, staring up at the ceiling. Dave huffed out a breath and walked over to Kurt.

"Dude, you're sitting on the floor. I've got to admit, that's both gross and unexpected."

Kurt kept his head still, but rolled his eyes over to meet Dave's. "It's a rental."

"Liar." Dave dropped down to the floor as well, making sure to keep a bit of distance between them. He couldn't draw his knees up to his chest the way Kurt had — not under the best of circumstances, and sure as hell not with this suit on — so he kicked his feet out in front of him, putting both hands flat on his thighs to keep from reaching for Kurt's hand.

"I'm kind of confused about what's going on tonight, Kurt. I don't really get the point of baring my soul when it's the same old soul I've always had, and we've done a pretty good job ignoring it so far. Ignoring it is totally working for us."

Kurt smiled up at the ceiling. "You think so?"

"Oh yeah." He laughed softly. "Is this why you've been weird the past few weeks? Because you didn't want to, like, encourage me or whatever?"

"Blaine said it was unfair for me to keep being your sex-free boyfriend."

Dave's head whipped to the side. "My what?"

Kurt turned to look at Dave. "That was my reaction, too. But then he explained it, and it made sense in that weird, because-Blaine-says-so kind of way."

Dave grinned and nodded at him. "I know that one. I fear the day that man holds power over a nation."

The overhead lights in the hallway were dimmed after hours, and it was hard for Dave to read much of what was going on under the surface of Kurt's pale face. They sat in silence for a full minute, just looking at one another. Dave's voice was quiet when he spoke again. "Nothing has to change, you know. We're good. We're in the same boat we've always been in."

Kurt shook his head, looking miserable. "I'm not sure what's changed, but it happened before whatever just happened, happened." At Dave's raised eyebrows, Kurt waved his hand in the air. "Oh, shut up. I'm too overwrought to be eloquent." His hand fluttered down to the floor between them and Dave's left hand jerked a little, wanting to reach for it.

"I don't want to fuck things up for you and Blaine. Not that I could, ever. I'm not saying that there's anything going on that would be a problem for you and him, in terms of your feelings. I just mean—"

Kurt looked at Dave and shook his head again. "Don't you ever get tired of coming in last place, David? Because I have never seen you go for pole position."

His laughter was louder than he'd intended, and he was surprised at how it reverberated around them. "Did you just make a racing reference? That's kind of like sports, you know."

"My father fixes cars. Do you think I escaped childhood without watching NASCAR? Besides, racing isn't a sport. It's traffic. Meanwhile, you're avoiding the question." Kurt's fingers moved slowly back and forth on the linoleum. Dave swallowed hard and kept his hands as still as possible.

"Kurt, I kissed you before I could even put a name on what I was feeling."

"That doesn't count—"

"Why not? Because you don't like to think about what a prick I can be? I think about it all the time. I think about how I'm the kind of prick who kisses a guy he's been pushing around for months. The kind of prick who sent cards and flowers and heart-shaped boxes of candy to another dude's boyfriend. I don't know what you want me to say here. You know how I feel and I know how you feel—"

"How do I feel, David?"

"What?"

He shrugged. "How do I feel? You seem more certain about this than I am, right now. So how do I feel?" The words were casual, flippant even, but Dave could hear the desperation in Kurt's voice.

"You like me, Kurt, but just as friends."

"That was months ago. I didn't even know you."

"Well, let's see: my talents include stringing myself up by the rafters and otherwise being a useless fucking—"

The blue eyes that searched his were suddenly shining with tears. Dave thought Kurt was feeling sorry for him as usual, so he was taken aback when the next words out of the boy's mouth weren't pitying but furious.

"That's all such _bullshit_," he hissed, the tears falling now. "The morbid jokes, the references to every mistake you've ever made, the self-loathing. It's a front. It's like you take every opportunity to remind me of all that so I'll have a reason to feel nothing for you but pity. You hide behind all of that crap so that you never have to do anything, never _risk_ anything."

"Kurt—"

"God forbid you admit that you're worth something, or look in the mirror and see the smart, compassionate person I see. Charming. Hilarious." Kurt's voice broke. "Beautiful."

David lost his battle with himself. He reached out for Kurt's hand, but Kurt batted him away.

"Don't you touch me, I'm not finished yelling at you!"

"I'm sorry—"

"You shouldn't be sorry, you should be happy. You should be over the freaking moon right now, but you're so stupid you can't even see it. People like you. People love you. There's nothing you can do about it; no amount of smart-assed comments will change it: people love you."

This time when David reached for Kurt's hand, Kurt let him take it. With his free hand, Dave brushed the tears off of Kurt's cheeks.

Kurt twisted until his whole body faced Dave, his knee pressing against Dave's thigh as he leaned forward, whispering. "People love you, David Karofsky."

"Yeah? And look how happy 'people' seem to be about that."

When Kurt brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed Dave's fingertips, and then his wrist, Dave felt something painful burst into life in his chest and squeeze. He drew a ragged breath, keeping his eyes locked on Kurt's. He looked at the young man who had been his nemesis and his mentor, his friend and the object of all his desire and he felt like he would never stop looking. "It still doesn't have to change anything."

"See? That's just exactly the type of thing you'd say." Kurt hung his head, looking down at their entwined fingers. Dave slid over the wall slightly so that their foreheads nearly touched.

"I don't want to be this thing you regret tomorrow."

"David," Kurt whispered — and Dave swore he could feel his name as it left Kurt's lips — "that's kind of the point I'm trying to make, here."

They were near enough to be breathing the same air. Dave thought the excess carbon dioxide was probably to blame for the way his heart was thumping and his eyes kept wanting to close. And it was affecting Kurt as well, because his eyes were closing, too.

He had imagined kissing Kurt Hummel about six hundred thousand times. It was kind of a hobby of his. Screw that: it was pretty much his career. He had pictured every possible scenario, every permutation: the motive, pressure, wetness, duration. After everything that had happened between them, he knew he would never be the one to initiate that kind of contact, so it was always Kurt who leaned in and changed the rules. He had it all mapped out in his head. And yet. And yet.

The touch of Kurt's mouth to his was the most surprising thing in the world. He had imagined Kurt hesitant, chaste: but of course Dave was the one with no experience; Dave was the one who didn't know the first thing about kissing someone, much less a guy, much less _the_ guy. Kurt's lips closed slowly over Dave's bottom lip, sucking gently, giving it the softest brush of his tongue from below. Like an ice cream cone, Dave thought wildly, too shocked to respond. Kurt moved his head slightly, inhaling, dragging his bottom lip back and forth against the wetness he'd left behind. Dave was still frozen, but it didn't seem to bother Kurt: he alternated small, wet kisses and light nips of his teeth from the middle of David's lower lip over to the corner of his mouth. He ran his tongue along the smooth skin there, teasing Dave's mouth open and flicking his tongue against Dave's teeth before pulling back a fraction of an inch and pressing their cheeks together.

Kurt's voice was a low growl that Dave would never have believed possible when he demanded, "_Kiss me_."

And somehow it finally got through his addled mind that this was Kurt's beautiful, red, smart mouth making those sounds, doing these things. Dave untangled his fingers and brought both hands up to Kurt's face, holding him at a distance so that he could see him clearly. "I don't want to hurt you."

Kurt groaned and put one of his hands in Dave's hair and pulled, hard. "Stupid."

"That—" Kurt didn't give Dave a chance to finish, because the second he opened his mouth to argue, Kurt was kissing him again. Dave kissed back, finally, his hands touching Kurt's face in wonder so that sometimes Kurt was kissing his lips and sometimes pulling a finger into his mouth to suck and bite. Dave followed Kurt's lead, letting the smaller boy set the pace; Kurt raised his chin, letting Dave trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck, pulling them together so that they had as much contact as their awkward position on the floor would allow.

At every sucking sound that came from Kurt's mouth, every whimper, Dave had to struggle harder for control of himself. "Jesus, Kurt, the noises you're making, you should hear yourself."

Kurt bit down on Dave's earlobe and then licked it, exhaling against the wet skin and making Dave shiver. "Are you seriously making fun of me right now?"

Dave jerked his head to the side and found Kurt's mouth, tracing the scowl there with his lips. "Not making fun. Not making fun."

"Good." Kurt kissed Dave hard, pushed himself off the floor and moved so that he was kneeling over Dave. At the feel of Kurt's thighs on either side of his own, Dave swore and put his hands on Kurt's hips, guiding him down so that he was sitting on Dave's legs and not his lap. Kurt looked down at him mischievously, and tried to shift forward, but Dave's hands held him firmly in place. Kurt put his hands against Dave's shoulders, keeping him at bay as Kurt came close enough to tease with breathy almost-kisses just out of Dave's reach. In frustration, Dave pulled Kurt onto his lap; Kurt, looking at Dave's flushed face, wrapped his arms around Dave's neck and leaned down so that he could kiss the other boy again. They remained like that, twined together, until Dave pulled back with a grin.

"You're going to wish you'd rented that suit."

Kurt arched his back, making Dave close his eyes tightly. "That sounds _filthy_, David."

"I meant because of getting your knees all dirty."

"That sounds even filthier. Do go on."

A deep voice from the end of the corridor interrupted their reverie. "As much as it kills me to break this up, I think we should probably go.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you again to everyone who is reading this and commenting and generally making me feel like a boss. Writing as fast as I can!

And three dozen long-stemmed thank you's to **_myownghost,_** who is a bitchin' Beta. You all owe her chocolate cake and you don't even know it!

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><p>Kurt had decided to leave it to fate: if Blaine was the one to find him, he'd throw his arms around those well-defined shoulders and deal with David in a sensible manner tomorrow. If David discovered him sitting outside his French classroom, well… Then he'd figure that part out, too.<p>

It was completely irresponsible, and cowardly, but Kurt hadn't gotten the script for whatever post-modern masterpiece Blaine was trying to stage here tonight. Did he want Kurt to throw himself at David? Was Blaine testing him? Testing David? Was he — Kurt hated how much he sounded like a fifth grader inside his head, but — was Blaine breaking up with him in some unfathomable, passive-aggressive way?

So, screw it. Fate could cast her vote: let that bitch do the legwork tonight. Kurt Hummel was out of the decision-making business.

When it was David who came walking slowly down the hallway towards him, he had been neither surprised nor unhappy. It was David, after all. He knew what David would expect (nothing). He knew how David would feel (guilty). It was ridiculously easy to manage David's expectations, really, because he had none.

Which, when Kurt thought about it, was more than a little infuriating, because it meant everything fell squarely on his shoulders again. So, fine. If people — and Fate — were going to put Kurt in the driver's seat — Kurt was going to drive.

If that meant calling David on his macabre jokes and self-deprecating nonsense, fine.

If that meant telling David things he had no right to tell him while he was in a relationship with Blaine, fine.

If that meant crossing the blurry line they'd drawn and kissing David right here in the hallowed halls of William McKinley High School, fine.

Better than fine. Because Kurt was out of the giving-a-damn business, too.

It wasn't as though he'd never thought about David this way: he was a 17-year-old boy; he'd pretty much thought about every male outside of blood relation at some point or another, and the pool of non-celluloid gay guys in his life was pretty shallow. Even before Blaine had nailed the idea of David's attraction to him into his head, David had been Kurt's secret admirer. Ten kinds of wrong or not, a football player in a gorilla suit didn't just declare his love to Kurt every damned day. And there had even been a sad, lonely part of Kurt last year that had daydreamed of what might have been if David had chosen that moment in the locker room to be honest with himself instead of escalating things to the point where Kurt had left McKinley.

So, yes: Kurt had indulged in the odd libidinous fantasy about his friend. He just hadn't really appreciated the full impact of an enthusiastic and compliant David Karofsky. David was so rapt, so eager: he had obviously not gotten the memo about Kurt's lack of sex appeal, either, because he was looking at Kurt the way Finn looked at chocolate cake, and Kurt found he was deeply committed to keeping that look on David's face. When David sucked at the pulse point under Kurt's jaw, Kurt moaned out loud, making David's hand tighten around Kurt's back, which in turn inspired more shockingly carnal sounds from him. And David wasn't embarrassed by it or rolling his eyes — David was shaking with desire and it was because of Kurt. It occurred to him that he could do anything he wanted with David, to David: here was the person on earth least likely to judge him. David had placed himself completely, joyfully, into Kurt's hands. The thought was exquisitely tender and seductive.

Kurt sat up and straddled David's thighs, and when David put his hands on Kurt's hips and held him in place, Kurt felt that same breathless, cinematic wonder he'd felt with David on the dance floor. He was beyond caring about his rumpled suit: a year ago David had stood on this spot and told Kurt to wait for him and now they were wrapped around one another on the cold, worn linoleum. If this was what Fate had come up with for tonight, Kurt thought, who was he to argue? He leaned in and kissed David again.

Blaine's voice — calm and slightly amused — barely registered with Kurt, but David practically knocked him on his ass in his hurry to untangle the two of them as quickly as possible. Kurt was pulled to his feet next by a tousled, visibly distressed David, who noticed how close they still were to one another, and took an enormous sidestep that would not have been out of place in vaudeville. Kurt, meanwhile, tried to make sense of Blaine, still standing at the end of the corridor, smiling too brightly and pointing towards the doors.

"My car's parked in back."

"How did your car get here, Blaine? We took a limo." Kurt glanced at David. "We took a limo, right?"

David couldn't seem to take his eyes off Blaine. "What?"

"I asked your dad if he could have the guys from the shop drop it off earlier tonight."

"My dad, Burt Hummel?"

Blaine nodded. "That's the one. I told him we'd be leaving the dance a little bit before the others, since you didn't want to be reminded about last year's whole…" he mimed a tiara being placed on his head.

"I wasn't worried about that."

Blaine sighed, and some actual amusement crept into his smile. "I know, Kurt. It was an excuse. I'm sorry I lied to your dad. Shall we?"

David took a step forward, but Kurt threw his arm out like a soccer mom and blocked him. "Hang on. Are you telling me that you set all this up before we even got here tonight?"

"I booked a hotel room nearly two weeks ago."

Kurt lowered his arm, but David didn't move. "And you're so pleased with yourself. I'm dating Machiavelli."

There was nothing to indicate Blaine took offense at this observation. He walked over to the illuminated Exit sign and pushed open the door. He held it open and looked back at Kurt and David.

"Fine." Kurt kept his chin high as he walked past Blaine. "Did you disable the alarm on the fire doors while you were at it?"

"This isn't a fire door, silly. David?"

David had stopped just outside the building and turned to face Blaine. "Look, I—"

"Are you okay to drive?"

"My what? I didn't drink anything."

Blaine looked up at him for a long moment, then asked again, slowly, "Are you okay to drive?"

David took a deep breath. "Oh. Yeah. I'm good."

"Excellent."

By the time they had all climbed into Blaine's Saab, Kurt had decided that Puck must have poured something a lot more mind-altering than Rum in the punch. He flipped down the sun visor and lifted the lid off the mirror so that he could fix his hair and study Blaine in the seat behind him.

"Is this the part where you garrote me with piano wire?"

The keys turned in the ignition but David just let it idle. "That should totally have been my line." Kurt noticed that David was staring out the windshield, looking lost.

"Hey," Kurt said softly. He put his hand on David's knee, but David only shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kurt watched in fascination as Blaine leaned forward and squeezed David's shoulder. To his knowledge, Blaine had never so much as touched David in all these months of hanging out together. Kurt looked at the hand warily, and was amazed to hear Blaine say, very gently, to both of them:

"If you asked me if I knew this was going to happen? The answer is no. Did I make a very educated guess? Absolutely. The way I figure it, we have roughly eight minutes between this parking lot and the Lima Holiday Inn during in which we can establish some kind of ground rules for the rest of the evening. But you should both know, as of this moment, that I'm not angry. I'm not hurt. And I'm not judging you. Okay?"

David opened his eyes and met Blaine's steady look in the rear-view mirror. He exhaled a jagged breath. David nodded, but was still unable to acknowledge Kurt. Kurt looked from David to Blaine and back again, then flung himself back against the seat, holding his hands up in front of him. "I actually have no words."

"Then we're halfway there. David, it's on South Leonard and Bellefontaine. Kurt, buckle up."

Kurt muttered that he thought they had decided to live dangerously, but he pulled the shoulder restraint across his body and snapped it in place.

"_You two_," Blaine began amiably, "are idiots. How much time did you think two attractive teen-aged boys could spend together and remain just friends? Particularly you two? I've seen this coming for months: I was only surprised that neither of you seemed to see it. But there's no need to worry, because it's not what you think it is. This isn't love."

Kurt kept an eye on David as he maneuvered through the quiet streets. At Blaine's words, David clenched his jaw hard, the muscles at his temple jumping. Kurt tried to listen to Blaine analyze the moment to within spitting range of insanity, but he was so keenly tuned into David and the anxiety that radiated off his body, only about half of Blaine's lecture filtered through.

"…And it's only reasonable that sooner or later you were going to crack under that sort of pressure. Kurt, you're so empathetic, and you've taken so much of David's emotional recovery on your shoulders: it's natural that at some point, your desire to help him is going to feel a lot like — well, _desire_."

Kurt hated that David seemed to be listening to this and taking Dr. Anderson's words as truth. He turned in his seat to look at Blaine. "My desire to help David feels a lot like the desire to stick my tongue in his mouth."

Blaine made a slight choking sound at that, but David didn't respond at all.

"And that's okay… That makes a certain kind of sense, right?"

"That makes zero sense. You know what else is perplexing, Blaine? My boyfriend seems to want me to make out with another guy, I just left my Senior Prom in a Saab when I arrived in a _limo_, and I'm about ninety seconds away from a Holiday Inn."

"_I_ think that you and David need to address this situation head on. You know me: I'm not so insecure that I'd want to get in the way of that: I want to help. And…" He hesitated, carefully choosing his words. "I think that so long as we can all agree on what we're talking about here, this could be a really good experience for all of us."

"So, what? You're going to lock David and me in a hotel room until we get this out of our system?"

"Kurt," Blaine said, but he put a hand on each of their shoulders. "I doubt that either of you needs to be locked in. And I don't think that it would be fair to ask you and David to do this work on your own, so I'll be there. Too. I'll be there, too."

The green light from the neon sign of the hotel washed over them, and David turned into the parking lot.

Blaine clapped his hands together. "So! Here's what I'm thinking: I say we all go up to the room together, and we spend the next twelve hours just going where this takes us. I say we leave our egos and our midwestern assumptions out here with all the Chevrolets. I say what happens in room 314 stays in room 314 and I say that I get first dibs on the shower. Deal?"

"You're absolutely insane."

David pulled smoothly to a stop and turned off the engine. Kurt wanted so desperately to know what was going on in his head; if Blaine's manic twaddle had upset David, Kurt was going start pulling hair.

Kurt reached over and adjusted David's collar. "David?"

David twisted in his seat and finally looked at Kurt. He said, without the slightest hesitation, "I'm in."


	6. Chapter 6

Dave Karofsky was not an iceberg: he was a torpedo. He was a nuclear sub.

Blaine had known going into the evening that he was dealing with a lot of variables: two complicated young men, a risky set list, and the chance that either Kurt or Dave would balk at any point in the evening and just walk away. Kurt was emotional; Dave was insecure; it could have gone a hundred different directions.

But when he'd thought about it — and he'd spent an alarming amount of time doing just that — Blaine was confident that when he turned the corner into that hallway, he would find Kurt and Dave pressed up against a locker, letting their long-suppressed but deeply ambivalent feelings get the better of them. He liked to think that one or both of them would initially have protested on his account; he appreciated that, and imagined it would make his forgiveness that much sweeter when he offered it.

Of course, they were not leaning against the lockers, but sitting on the floor. Kurt was on Dave's lap, the low notes of his laughter falling away as he leaned down to kiss Dave. Blaine wondered if he had perhaps overestimated his ability to predict the outcome of this thing: Kurt hadn't really been the weepy, apologetic wreck that he had imagined consoling. Kurt was, in fact, rather put out.

Dave's reaction, though, had been completely gratifying: the look on his face was an attractive blend of shock and contrition. Blaine felt a flood of warmth for Dave, and was happy to see that he, at least, was behaving in a sensible way.

In fact, other than Kurt's inexplicable anger (and why did he keep looking at Dave as though he were about to break? Blaine was the one who'd been betrayed back in that hallway.), things were going very well. Kurt had listened without interrupting (much) on the ride to the hotel, and Dave had quickly embraced Blaine's plan.

"I'm in."

"You see!" Blaine smiled at Kurt. Kurt, however, was scowling at Dave.

"You're what?"

"I'm in. It's prom night. I have nowhere else to be."

There was an edge to Dave's voice that Blaine couldn't quite identify, but Dave handed him the keys and stepped out of the car. Kurt immediately jumped out after Dave, so Blaine grabbed his overnight bag from the floorboards and hurried to catch up.

Blaine was charmed by how anxious Dave seemed to be: Dave bit his lips and rolled his neck as they made their way through the lobby and up the stairs to the third floor. Blaine fell back a few paces and took up his usual habit of observing the two friends as they checked out the room numbers, looking for 314. Kurt walked beside Dave, glancing up at his face often, clearly trying to get a reading on the larger boy's state of mind; Dave looked anywhere but at Kurt. Just outside their room, Kurt pulled up short, grabbing the key card out of Blaine's hand and blocking the door.

"Stop stop stop." Kurt glanced for a moment at Blaine's untroubled features, almost as though he had never laid eyes on them before, then turned to Dave.

"What are you doing, David?"

Blaine saw Dave shift his weight from one foot to the other, looking at a point just over Kurt's left ear.

"I think it's some sort of very unorthodox group therapy. Seems like an offer I can't refuse."

"You can _absolutely_ refuse. This is crazy."

"Well, I guess I don't want to refuse." He exhaled a little laugh without any mirth. "Was there another offer on the table, Kurt?"

Kurt tilted his head to the side, trying to get Dave to meet his gaze. "You can't even look at me right now, David, and you think you're going to just walk into this room? And then what?"

Dave looked straight into Kurt's eyes for the second time since they'd left the dance. "I guess we'll find out."

Blaine counted five beats as he watched the emotions play over Kurt's face as though a movie were projected there; his reactions moved across his eyes and his mouth, and then they disappeared, one by one, behind that perfect curtain. Kurt really had the most remarkable face, Blaine thought: so expressive, and yet there was simply no way to read him when his guard was up. Dave, Blaine could see, was clearly trying to do just that, and it was a little heartbreaking. Blaine plucked the key out of Kurt's hand and pushed open the door.

The room seemed to be made entirely of bed. It was a low island surrounded by narrow straights of green carpet. When Dave came into the room, his eyes were drawn to it but he kept his distance, sitting down heavily on the dresser.

Kurt, on the other hand, walked straight to the closet to hang up his jacket and tie. Unbuttoning his collar, he briskly stripped the bed of everything but the sheets and pillowcases. He folded the blanket and stacked it on top of the bedspread, then placed the pile onto the top shelf of the closet and slid the door closed.

Blaine pulled out the desk chair and draped his jacket over it before sitting down. He studied Dave, who looked as though he were steeling himself for battle, and Kurt, who stood staring at his own reflection in the mirrored door of the closet. Blaine shook his head. What on earth did these two think was going to happen here? It was a hotel room, not the second circle of hell.

"If you two are done with the angst and despair, I think we should move on. Is anyone hungry? No? I have a bottle of single malt in the bag if…"

"Actually," Kurt said, "That is a fantastic idea." He went into the bathroom and came out with two tumblers covered in little paper caps. Blaine poured an good amount into each, and took one for himself.

Clinking their glasses together, he winked at Kurt. "Bottoms up."

Kurt shot him a disapproving look, but had to fight to keep from laughing. "Really, Blaine? Because nothing breaks the tension of three boys in a hotel room like salacious double entendre?"

"It's really hot in here. Isn't it?" Dave walked over to the AC unit under the window and hunkered down, fiddling with the control panel.

Blaine took a long drink from his glass and then gestured to Dave's back. Kurt nodded and went to stand beside Dave.

"There's only two glasses," he said, holding out the one in his hand. "But I guess you won't mind sharing?"

Dave slowly rose to his feet. He and Kurt were just inches from one another. Dave was a bit taller, and much broader, but he looked at Kurt as though the smaller boy held the power to destroy him. Blaine liked to look at them that way, Dave's physical power juxtaposed with Kurt's emotional strength. Dave was defenseless against Kurt, and it was really very sexy.

"If I drink this," Dave said, "and I really _shouldn't_ drink this, you know, but if I do, we can't leave here tonight. Not unless one of us wants to make some really awkward phone calls."

Kurt's eyes never left Dave's as he raised the glass to his own lips and drank some of the scotch. Then he held the glass out to Dave, who brought his hand up to cover Kurt's and tipped the glass towards his mouth, drinking the remainder in one long swallow. Kurt brought his free hand up to Dave's cheek and whispered, "David…" and in an instant, the tumbler was on the floor and Kurt was in Dave's arms.

Blaine felt his own breathing quicken as he watched Dave wrap his hands around Kurt's waist and pull him against his chest, kissing him. Maybe because he had rehearsed the moment so often in his head, Blaine found that his overwhelming response was not jealousy or the need to reclaim his territory, but the sudden and intense pull of desire. He let them continue to kiss for a few seconds longer, then approached them the way you might approach a beautiful but somewhat dangerous animal in the wild. He reached for Kurt first, his hand ghosting across Kurt's back, and up into his hair. When he reached out with his other hand and touched Dave's shoulder, Blaine felt the other boy freeze. Making little "shh shh shh" sounds, Blaine pressed down on Dave's shoulder, then brought his hand around to his back and pressed against his shoulder blades, and then into the small of his back. When he felt Dave relax a bit, Blaine dropped the hand that was in Kurt's hair and walked around behind Dave. He carefully began to pull Dave's jacket off, repositioning Dave's and Kurt's arms gently, methodically, until he could work the jacket free and toss it onto the desk. Blaine saw that they had stopped kissing, and were standing with their foreheads touching and their eyes closed.

Blaine took Dave's right hand and Kurt's left in his own. "Sexiest communion ever, gentlemen." He brought their hands up to his lips and kissed them both. "This is going to be amazing. Trust me."

Dave turned his head so that he could see Blaine. "You know that I have no idea what I'm doing, right? I've never… I mean, this is pretty much the sum total of my sexual experience, right here."

Blaine nodded and squeezed Dave's hand. "That's the beauty of this, right? Uncharted territory: I have no idea how any of this—" he made a little triangle with his hands, "how it will work. That's the whole point, that we're going to figure this out together. Kurt?"

Kurt just shook his head, his eyes still closed. "This doesn't feel right."

Blaine leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "But does it feel _good_?"

Kurt's eyes flew open and he seemed suddenly hyper-aware of where he was, and with whom, and how many hands were touching him.

"Oh god."

"Panic attack?" Blaine asked quickly.

"Little bit." Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed, with Dave and Blaine on either side of him.

"This happen a lot?" Dave looked at Blaine, alarmed.

"Not too often, but sometimes, yeah."

Kurt's eyes darted around the room. "No, I'm okay. I'm okay. Did you bring a radio or something? Maybe, like, background noise would be good. Distract me..."

Dave jumped to his feet. "Fuck this. I'm so out of here if it's going to upset you, Kurt. I'll call my dad to come pick me up. I'll call my freaking _mom_."

Kurt grabbed Dave's hand, holding him there. "Don't you dare leave this room. Just give me a minute, okay? I need to figure out what happens next."

Blaine took Kurt's other hand. "No, you don't, actually. You can just _be_ here, Kurt. Just be here, in this room, tonight."

The two boys exchanged glances, and Blaine knew that Kurt was battling his guilt and his hormones and the alcohol and his inflated sense of responsibility. He could read in Kurt's eyes how much he hated the uncertainty of this; it went against his need to have everything in its place. Blaine realized, sadly, that this might be the end of his grand scheme, that Kurt might just shut him down and they'd call Rachel and Finn and interrupt whatever party _they_ were having and make them bring the limo around to the hotel. Kurt would drive him back here to pick up his car tomorrow. They'd have to start all over with this awkward, unfinished business and it would be so much worse now.

But if that's what was going to happen, that's what was going to happen.

"Okay," Blaine said softly, putting an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Whatever you need. What would you like to happen next?"

Kurt looked from Blaine to Dave and back again before settling for a fixed point on the floor. He was silent for a long time, and when he finally did speak, his voice was barely audible over the hum of the AC unit. "I really don't know."

And then, just as Blaine was about to give up, the damnedest thing happened. No matter how many times he'd staged the evening in his head — and he'd taken fire alarms and room service and irate parents all into consideration — what came next was something he had never factored into his plans:

Dave Karofsky began to sing.


	7. Chapter 7

THANKS TO EVERYONE READING AND COMMENTING! Going to go work on Ch 8 now...

A million thanks to _**myownghost**_ for her Beta prowess and hand-holding during my freak outs in trying to write smut for the first time.

Hope you guys enjoy!

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><p>Dave figured he should probably have just driven straight to Kurt's house and walked home from there. Tonight, the hallway, Kurt's laughter and the kissing — that should have been enough.<p>

But when Blaine offered him the chance to have not just five minutes on the floor with Kurt but an entire night? Yeah, it was weird as hell, but it was a chance he was never going to get again. And Kurt was right there next to him in the car, and Dave could smell his cologne — he could still _taste_ Kurt on his lips. Dave could barely keep his hands steady on the wheel, and there was no way he could say no.

Dave realized he was in over his head when he was standing in the hotel room kissing Kurt _while Blaine watched_. Dave wasn't blinded by love: he knew that Blaine was good-looking, but he wasn't Kurt. And he wasn't someone Dave had thought a lot about, as a _guy_ — probably because when Blaine was around, Kurt was around, and Kurt required a lot of attention. And Kurt, Dave thought to himself as Blaine slipped Dave's jacket off of his shoulders, was worth everything he had to give.

So in theory, yes, the idea of having two hot guys on that enormous freaking bed was pretty mind-blowing. In practice? Dave was scared.

And then Kurt panicked, and he wanted a radio to _distract him_? That sounded like someone who was being tortured, not kissed. Dave knew what it felt like to scare and torture Kurt; he sure as hell wasn't going to have any part in that now, not when Kurt trusted him and lo— even in his head he stumbled over the thought, couldn't give it a voice — _liked_ him.

But nothing outside of formalwear was ever black and white with Kurt Hummel. When Dave tried to leave, to get out of there, Kurt held him back. When Blaine asked what Kurt wanted, Kurt didn't know.

Kurt looked at him, at _Dave_, as though he'd have an answer, as if he might know what to do. But what did Dave know about any of this? Dave was a complete idiot who'd had the good taste and bad luck to fall for this amazing guy who wore expensive clothes and carried himself like a king and sang in a choir and —

Oh. Suddenly Dave _knew_ what it was he knew, what magical thing might be the answer. Because what Dave knew was _Kurt_. Kurt, and the lyrics to some seriously badass love songs.

He dropped as gracefully as he could onto knees that had taken years of abuse on the field. Kurt looked at him in surprise, a question and the hint of a smile in his eyes. Dave pulled Kurt's hand to his chest and held it there, hoping Kurt wouldn't notice how his heart was hammering.

Dave's eyes flickered to Blaine for an instant, but Blaine looked too dumbstruck to mock him, so he concentrated on Kurt and doing the thing that would (hopefully, hopefully) make him feel better, less lost.

He started very softly, more of a whisper than real singing, because he'd never really sung to someone all on his own like this.

Did I drive you away?

I know what you'll say.

You'll say, "Oh, sing one we know."

Kurt was looking at him with the strangest expression on his face: he looked sort of happy, though, so Dave kept singing.

But I promise you this:

I'll always look out for you.

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

I say, "Oh."

I say, "Oh."

Dave felt Kurt's fingers dig into his shirt, urging him closer, and Blaine took Dave's hand to pull him up onto the bed, Kurt between them. Blaine gave Dave an appraising look that would normally have made him self-conscious, except that Blaine was gently pushing Kurt back onto the bed and guiding Dave's hand so that it rested on the first button of Kurt's shirt. Slowly, with trembling fingers, Dave slipped the button free. Blaine was smiling at him now as though they shared a secret; as Dave moved his hand down to the next button on Kurt's shirt, and Blaine worked his way up from the bottom button, Dave could see his point.

My heart is yours.

It's you that I hold on to,

That's what I do.

Kurt looked up at Dave and Blaine with his impossibly blue eyes shining, a little unfocused. When they had undone the last button, Dave hesitated, his fingertips brushing against the warmth of Kurt's undershirt. He watched the rise and fall of Kurt's chest through the white fabric.

And I know I was wrong.

But I won't let you down.

Oh, yeah I will, yeah I will, yes I will.

I say, "Oh."

I cry, "Oh."

Kurt pushed himself up onto his elbows and pulled his shirt off. He arched his back and wriggled out of the undershirt as well, his stomach smooth and taut as he lay back down. Blaine's hands moved confidently over Kurt's body, familiar with its contours, the pale skin, but Dave simply looked on, unsure and unwilling to break the spell that they were under. Kurt brought Dave's hand to his lips and kissed it, drawing Dave's thumb to his mouth just as he reached the last few words of the song.

Yeah, I saw sparks.***

Dave's voice broke as Kurt's lips closed around his thumb, and he stopped singing, too breathless to continue. Kurt released Dave's thumb, holding it between his teeth for a moment before guiding it over his chin and down his throat and finally pressing Dave's hand flat against the skin of his chest.

"David Karofsky, did you just serenade me?"

"Depends: did it suck?"

Blaine's laughter was low and muffled against Kurt's neck. Kurt wove his fingers into Blaine's hair and pulled his head lower, so that he was trailing kisses along Kurt's collarbone.

Kurt's eyes were locked on Dave's face, and he let go of Dave's hand so that he could reach up and touch his cheek. "Oh, it definitely did not suck."

Dave moved his hand down to Kurt's stomach, his thumb sliding from hip to hip reverently. "Feeling better?"

"Feeling something. Better's not the first word that comes to mind." Kurt's voice had dropped down to that deeper register he'd used earlier, when they were in the hallway.

Blaine raised his head and spoke, his voice was quiet, but commanding. "You should probably kiss him now, Dave."

Dave looked at the black-haired boy. "I don't—"

Blaine shrugged one shoulder, matter-of-factly. "Just saying."

Kurt nodded solemnly. "You should."

Dave splayed his fingers out, amazed at how huge and tan and _perfect_ his hand looked against the white skin of Kurt's abdomen.

"And when we wake up tomorrow, this was all just a dream?" Dave asked softly.

"Just a dream."

Dave bent low over Kurt and kissed the hollow of his hip. Kurt inhaled sharply, and Dave placed another kiss at Kurt's navel, and another on his ribcage, and another right at the base of his throat, hyper-aware of Blaine doing the same, just a few inches away. By the time Dave moved to kiss his jaw, Kurt grabbed the back of Dave's head and brought their lips together with an impatient groan.

Blaine sat back on his heels and methodically unbuttoned his shirt as he watched Kurt and Dave kiss.

"I'm just going to put out the light in here," Blaine said, and a moment later the room fell into semi-darkness, lit only by a sliver of light from the bathroom.

The rustle of fabric falling to the floor registered faintly in Dave's mind, and then Blaine was kneeling on the bed beside them. Dave looked over to see that Blaine had taken off his shirt and was glad that the dim light would hide the blush that flooded his cheeks. Blaine was a slight guy, but his body was surprisingly athletic. Dave took in Blaine's abs and the V of muscle that descended from his hips down beneath the waistband of his pants. Blaine's body didn't look like Kurt's body, so lithe and smooth, but it also didn't look anything like Dave's; Blaine looked a lot like the guys he'd played ball with over the years, and it felt wrong to be so obviously checking him out.

Maybe because of all the time he'd spent in locker rooms, when Dave realized he was staring he looked away quickly. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting… You're fit, dude. You're very fit."

There was no hint of self-consciousness in Blaine's smile. "Why, thank you. It's okay to look, you know. And it's okay to do more than look."

And then, maybe sensing Dave's hesitation, Blaine reached across Kurt's body to loosen the knot of Dave's tie and pull it slowly from around his neck. Dave glanced at Kurt, who was watching Blaine undress Dave with a rapt expression. When Dave finally tugged the t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair, he felt like a freaking bison, just sitting there next to the small, slim bodies of Kurt and Blaine.

"So, I'm a lineman," he said, trying not to sound as insecure as he felt. "I kind of have to carry more weight."

"Lineman." Blaine rolled the word around in his mouth a few times, looking back at Dave. "Jesus. What do you bench? You could toss us around like a couple of rag dolls."

Dave laughed softly. "Yeah, I don't do that anymore."

"I meant in a _good_ way."

Dave felt his cheeks burning again, unaccustomed to being on display. Locker room etiquette meant that no one ever looked at _him_, either.

As if reading his mind, Blaine added, "This isn't a locker room. You're supposed to like what you see, Dave. We want you to like what you see."

Dave found himself unable to meet Blaine's gaze, even though there was nothing unkind there. He blinked hard a few times, and tried to find a place to look that wasn't full of _beautiful boys_. He felt someone take his hand, and found Kurt looking back at him with his eyes shining.

"David, come here."

Kurt tugged Dave down to the bed, pushing him onto his back and kneeling over him. Kurt's hands were on Dave's chest, and he placed one long leg on either side of Dave's hips.

"Look at me." When Dave couldn't hold eye contact, Kurt took both of Dave's hands in his and flattened them to the bed over his head. He leaned in and kissed Dave on the mouth, hard enough to make Dave whimper and try to reach for him, but Kurt kept his hands pinned.

"I'm okay, Kurt." Dave choked out.

"You are _so much better than okay_." Kurt flexed his hips, and Dave's eyes opened wide as he realized that Kurt was hard. Kurt rocked forward, his erection pressing into Dave, who was too shocked to do anything but shake his head.

Kurt kissed him again, and shifted until every move of his hips earned a groan in response from Dave. When Dave tried to look away, Kurt dug his nails into the skin at Dave's wrists, and so he watched, wide-eyed, as Kurt moved his body against his.

"God. Kurt, don't. You don't have to…"

"Oh, David, David. You don't understand. You don't understand. You don't understand…"

He wasn't sure if the wetness on his face was from the kissing, or his tears, or Kurt's, but Dave managed to get his hands free at last and he wrapped his arms around the boy who kept repeating those words like a mantra. Dave put his hands on Kurt's hips and tried to hold him still as he fought to keep himself in control.

Kurt leaned down and whispered roughly into his ear, "Can you just let yourself have this one good thing? _Please_?"

And then Dave was grinding his hips up to meet Kurt, and there were flashes of color and light behind his eyelids and he came with a sudden, inarticulate growl. Kurt was all hands and lips, holding Dave's face and kissing him over and over as his ragged breathing turned into laughter that took a long time to fade away.

He finally let go of Kurt and flexed his hands. He brought them up to his face and wiped his eyes roughly. Dave looked from Kurt's radiant face above him over to Blaine, whose own breathing was fast and shallow.

Dave tried to smile, but his body hadn't quite come back on line yet. "This," he said, his voice not quite steady, "is totally what happens when you invite the virgin to your gay group sex after-prom party."

Kurt just beamed at him, and Dave wondered if Kurt even realized there were tears on his face, too. Blaine shook his head, a reproachful look on his face.

"David, you do realize you're an 18-year-old boy and we have—" Blaine glanced at the clock beside the bed, "_eleven_ hours until check-out?"

_Sparks_, by Coldplay — yet another song that gives me Kurtofsky feels


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry this took so long to post! It's a long chapter, if that's any consolation, and chock full of smut - which was painfully difficult for me to write.

And once again, you all owe **myownghost** big-time for doing the Beta.

* * *

><p>When Kurt was finally able to stop congratulating himself on the beautiful, flushed wreck he'd made of David, he realized that David was still mostly dressed.<p>

"Oh my god, your pants! Off!" He rolled onto the bed and started to unbuckle David's belt, but his hands were swatted away as David slid to the edge of the mattress and stood up.

"Sheesh, you're an animal, Hummel. Give a guy a few minutes to recover, at least." David ducked the pillow that came flying towards him.

"I'm not trying to molest you, David, I want you to take those pants off before they're ruined. You know…" Kurt made a vague scrubbing motion with his hands.

David looked at Blaine, who had propped himself up on one elbow and was watching Kurt and David with an amused expression. "Is he always so bossy?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "You have no idea. "

"Pants!" Kurt stood up and tried to push David toward the bathroom, but the larger boy held his ground.

"This is not how the 'and then Kurt rips my pants off' fantasy usually goes,_ at all_."

"I swear to god, I will—"

David put his hands in the air and took a step backwards. "I'm going, I'm going!"

Kurt spun David around and marched him to the bathroom door. He crossed his arms as a grinning David closed the door in his face, plunging him into total darkness.

"Think it's safe to turn the air off? I'm freezing!" Groping his way past the bed and over to the window, Kurt opened the drapes enough to let in a little light, then flipped the dials on the AC until the cold air blasting from the vents began to warm. Then he fell back onto the bed and felt Blaine reach out to touch his shoulder.

Blaine. Kurt didn't have the slightest idea what Blaine was trying to accomplish in this room tonight. If he was trying to get Kurt to see how _not_ attracted to David he really was, things were off to a bad start. Not that Kurt minded, right at the moment, but it was going to be a nightmare to sort out in the morning.

Blaine moved closer, so his chest was pressed against Kurt's side. In the artificially cooled room, his body felt wonderfully warm and Kurt leaned into him.

Kurt trailed his fingers along Blaine's torso. "Does it bother you at all that David Karofsky just got further with me in an hour than you did in six months?"

"Should it?" Blaine kissed him. "I think that's part of why we're here. Well, why I'm here. I didn't want this to happen behind my back, and I didn't want to hear about it after the fact." Blaine moved his lips down to Kurt's neck and bit him lightly. "If this was going to happen — and it was _so_ going to happen — I needed to be a part of it. Otherwise," he licked the spot he'd been kissing and then bit Kurt again, a little harder. "This would totally—" he sucked at the tender skin over Kurt's throat — "fucking" — bit it again — "destroy me."

Kurt groaned and turned to Blaine, kissing him and pulling them closer against one another. Blaine teased him, pulling his head back as Kurt tried to run his tongue over Blaine's lips.

"It was _interesting_, though."

Struggling to see in the darkness, Kurt picked up the gleam in Blaine's eyes. "How do you mean?"

"I thought Dave would be more… aggressive."

At the memory of grinding himself against a pleading and passive David, Kurt reached down to adjust himself.

"Not that you left him a lot of room for that. I've never really seen that side of you, before." Blaine ran a hand along Kurt's stomach, slipping a finger beneath the waistband of his trousers and the elastic of his underwear.

"Ah." Kurt raised his hips at Blaine's touch, but when the other boy didn't respond, Kurt groaned and palmed his erection through the tight fabric of his pants.

Kurt heard the shower come on but a moment later the bathroom door opened. He couldn't see David, but he heard a deep voice call out, "Am I being a dick if I ask you guys not to start without me?"

Blaine reached down, put his hand over Kurt's, and squeezed. "How about we promise not to finish without you?"

"Fair enough." The door clicked shut.

Kurt lay very still as Blaine moved his mouth slowly down his chest, flicking his tongue against one of Kurt's nipples as he went. Kurt slipped his hand out from under Blaine's and wove his fingers into Blaine's hair, trying to keep the boy's kisses above his waist.

"We said we'd wait."

Because no matter how much he was throbbing against Blaine's palm, a part of Kurt's mind was very much aware of David just on the other side of the bathroom wall.

Blaine licked a path from Kurt's navel down to his belt buckle. The effect of the wetness left behind on his skin and the cold air from the AC made Kurt shiver. "Do— do you think David's okay?"

Blaine raised his head and looked at Kurt. After a long pause, he said, "I don't know. Can he swim?" Blaine unfastened Kurt's belt and unbuttoned the top button of his pants. He leaned low over Kurt, placing his lips against the soft jersey of Kurt's underwear and then exhaled a hot, humid breath.

Kurt's teeth chattered and he resisted the urge to push his hips up and press his cock firmly against Blaine's mouth. "Oh no, no, no. Bad idea."

"Are you worried about ruining _your_ pants, Kurt? Because I can help with that." Blaine brought Kurt's zipper down and began to draw Kurt's pants down over his hips.

Kurt squirmed away and sat up quickly. It was always irritating when Blaine got an idea stuck in his head — or his pants — and thought he was being adorable when he was really just being clueless.

"I'm going to go check on him really quick."

As he stood up, Kurt felt Blaine hook a finger through his belt loop.

"Hang on. We'll both go."

Kurt froze. "Why?"

"Well," Blaine stood up, very close behind Kurt, and kissed Kurt's back between the shoulder blades. "I could use a shower before we carry on. How about you?" He took a step away from the bed and toed off his shoes; his socks and pants quickly followed onto the floor. Kurt felt Blaine reach for his hand and draw it over to his naked body. Kurt breathed in sharply through his nose, moving his fingers over Blaine: it was a continual source of wonder to Kurt that Blaine could be such a small guy and have such a massive dick. Giving Blaine a quick kiss, he stripped off the remainder of his clothing, as well.

"You're going to scare the bejeezus out of David with that thing, just so you know. Come on."

Kurt's hand was trembling as he slowly opened the door to the bathroom and groped along the wall for the light switch. When he'd flipped it down, they were suddenly in utter darkness. From behind him came the sound of suppressed laughter from Blaine, and there was a startled, "The hell?" from deeper inside the bathroom.

Kurt pushed the door all the way open and Blaine came to stand beside him. He wasn't certain how much of his trembling was from the cold and how much from anxiety about how David was going to take this little invasion of his personal space.

Kurt stepped onto something that felt suspiciously like a pair of $220 trousers wadded up in a ball and tossed aside.

"David, did you just leave those pants on the floor?"

"What? They're pretty much headed straight to the cleaners. You came in here to check whether I hung up my pants?"

Blaine pulled back the curtain a bit, the scraping of the metal rings across the shower rod incredibly loud in the small, tiled space.

Kurt trilled a couple of notes and smiled as they echoed off the walls. "You should have sung in here, the acoustics are great."

"You said I didn't suck!"

"Everyone can use a little boost in production values, David, it doesn't mean—"

"Is this _really_ the lesson you want to give right now, Kurt?" Blaine stepped carefully into the bathtub.

"Wait, you're both in here?"

Kurt pulled the curtain open from the other side and stepped into the full spray of the shower with a little squeak.

"Jesus, that's hot!"

"Sorry, wait…" David reached for the faucet to adjust the temperature, but his hand brushed against Kurt's wet, bare skin and he froze. Kurt jumped a little.

"God, sorry, sorry!"

Kurt found David's hand and brought it to rest against his side. Then, feeling bold in the total darkness, he pulled David's hand around until he was cupping Kurt's ass. "It's okay. I'm getting used to it."

From the other side of David, Kurt heard Blaine deadpan, "The water or all the touching?"

At the sound of Blaine's voice, David's fingers tightened on Kurt's ass.

"Oh my god," David laughed quietly. "I have totally had this dream before."

"Me, too." Kurt and Blaine both answered.

Kurt reached out for David, putting both of his hands on the taller boy's chest and enjoying the feel of the water running over them. When David touched his neck, Kurt took a step closer so that he could reach David's mouth, but before their lips met, Kurt's erection jabbed into the top of David's thigh, and he heard David's breath catch in his throat. Kurt shifted a bit and leaned forward, licking the hot water off of David's lips and leaning against him so that the length of his hard-on was pressed between their bodies.

David put a hand to Kurt's cheek and whispered, "Just a dream…?"

"A really good, totally naked dream." As Kurt kissed David, he felt another pair of hands join David's and move up his arms. Kurt realized with start that those must be _Blaine's_ hands, and if Blaine's hands were touching _him_, Blaine's whole body had to be wrapped around David.

David hissed. "Ah, hang on, hang on."

Kurt felt one of Blaine's hands leave him and heard Blaine soothe David with a whisper. "Don't worry, no one's trying to rush you into anything."

Kurt heard David groan and wondered what Blaine was doing to elicit that sound. Suddenly, David grabbed Kurt around the waist and lifted him bodily, turning so that Kurt was between the other boys and David directly under the spray of water from the showerhead.

Kurt turned to face Blaine, furious with the dark-haired boy. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"Nothing! I mean, I was touching him but not, like, in any _meaningful_ way."

Kurt heard David chuckling. Two large hands reached from behind him to gently cradle his face and turn it to the side. David moved forward and spoke directly into Kurt's ear, drops of water splashing against Kurt's cheek.

"I had shampoo in my hair. It was running into my eyes. I'm _fine_."

Kurt nodded, his cheek brushing against the tip of David's nose. "Sorry. I'm a little overprotective, maybe."

"I don't want to be protected." David ran a hand over Kurt's back and let it rest on the curve of his ass.

Kurt wished he'd left the light on: David's voice sounded different all of a sudden, confident. Decisive. And the hand holding him tightly felt different, too.

"OK." Kurt leaned back, letting his shoulders rest against David. "What do you want?"

David's left hand moved slowly, deliberately, down Kurt's chest, and then lower. Kurt held his breath as David's hand lifted off of his stomach, and gasped as the barest touch of fingertips moved from the base of his cock up to the tip.

David stood with his broad chest against Kurt's back. When David's hand closed around the length of Kurt's erection and pulled up slightly, both boys made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. Kurt let his head fall back against David' shoulder. The voice in Kurt's ear was a low, seductive rumble. "I want Kurt Hummel."

Blaine ran his hand along the inside of Kurt's thigh. "Technically, that's a who, but I do see his point."

It was pretty much all Kurt could do to keep standing. He reached out a hand to steady himself against the tile wall.

David rattled the curtain for a moment, then dropped a towel down onto the bottom of the tub. In a moment, he was kneeling on the towel and spinning Kurt around to face him.

"Karofsky's apparently a logistical genius." Blaine breathed into Kurt's ear, moving up behind him until their bodies were tight together.

Breathlessly, Kurt put his hand out and stroked David's wet hair. "I feel like I should have a sword and confer knighthood upon you."

Blaine sniggered behind Kurt, but Kurt ignored it: David moved his hand between Kurt's legs and rolled the skin of his scrotum between his fingers.

"Guh. David…"

David placed a kiss on Kurt's lower stomach, and Kurt felt the other boy's breath on his skin as he spoke.

"I have to warn you that I have no clue what I'm doing." Another kiss, so teasing and close it made Kurt's hips rock forward impatiently.

"And I have to warn you that this will be a sprint and not a marathon. Don't judge me."

"Deal."

Kurt let his hand rest against the back of David's head, his fingers brushing through his hair. He wished again that he'd left the light on: he wanted to see David's face. Kurt wanted to see if his eyes were closed, or if he was looking up at him. He wanted to know how David looked when faced with the evidence of how much Kurt wanted him.

He was about to ask for the light when he felt David's lips brush against him. Kurt's fingers curled reflexively into David's hair as David backed off for a second, licking his lips. Kurt's body was vibrating in anticipation of David's touch. He felt the warmth of Blaine behind him and, trusting him to keep them both upright, brought his hand down from where it was braced against the tiles and touched David's cheek.

"Please, David."

And then David seemed to be everywhere at once: one hand gripping the base of Kurt's cock and his tongue circling the tip. Kurt felt David's mouth slide over him and had to grab onto the curtain rod to stay on his feet. David pulled back just enough to tell Blaine not to let Kurt fall, but the feeling of David's lips brushing against Kurt as he spoke was enough to make Kurt whimper in frustration.

Kurt's hand moved to the back of David's head and he pleaded, "I need you."

And David moved his mouth back to Kurt, at first hesitantly, as if worried he would do something _wrong_, and then with more enthusiasm, as if Kurt's desire increased his own.

Behind Kurt, Blaine was slowly sliding himself back and forth against Kurt's wet skin.

Kurt could hear Blaine fumbling for something in the darkness, and then the cool, viscous feel of shampoo or body wash was poured over his lower back. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's chest and held him close as he thrust against the hard muscles of Kurt's ass.

David's hand stroked Kurt as his mouth wandered down to kiss and suck the rough skin below Kurt's cock, and then back up, licking and groaning as he drew Kurt deep into his mouth. It was almost overwhelming, the sensation of being surrounded and touched and adored by these two boys. He loved Blaine; Blaine had been his best friend and his bedmate for a year. The feeling of Blaine's arms around him, holding him, steadying him, was as sweet and sexy as it had ever been. He did love Blaine.

And yet. In the darkness, it was David's face he needed to see, and David he reached for. It was incredibly hot, this fantasy of eager bodies and wet skin, but if he was going to be honest with himself, it was just a backdrop for the unbearable joy of being here, like this, with David.

"I need you," he said again, and then Kurt's hand on the back of David's head was pulling at his hair, dragging him back up, off his knees, until they were standing face to face. Kurt smashed their lips together, hips jerking forward as David's hand found the rhythm and pressure that made Kurt's breath leave his throat in gasps of "Uh, uh uh." Kurt kissed David with an open mouth, struggling to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.

Behind him, Blaine's movements became quicker, more erratic, and then Kurt felt the sudden heat of semen on his back as Blaine came, saying, "God, Kurt, Kurt."

But Kurt was lost in the feeling of David's hand around him, and David's mouth over his. Kurt held tightly to the curtain rod with one hand while the other dug into David's arm as he finally gave in to the sensation of it all and came with a sob, burying his face in David's neck and crying,

"I love you. I love you. David…"


	9. Chapter 9

I wanted to get this chapter out sooner rather than later, so if you were awesome and commented and I didn't get back to you, that's why. I actually love you, and never meant to ignore you. I did this for us! But really, I'll try to respond to comments v. soon because they are so generous and they make me want to write better, and faster, and make you happy.

And kisses to **_myownghost, _**super-Beta.

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><p>Dave Karofsky was a Kraken. Some sort of water demon. Poseidon, maybe.<p>

In the shower, Dave had seemed a mere extension of their own bodies, his and Kurt's: a therapeutic and very realistic blow-up doll. They were in a wet sort of dream world, where everyone could simply do what felt good, and act on their desire in a totally safe, contained way. And it was just for tonight.

Blaine had felt Kurt's heart thumping as he clasped their bodies together in the darkness. He'd held Kurt in his arms and felt that this moment — ridiculous and sexy and totally according to plan — was possible because he and Kurt loved one another so strongly, and took such care of one another, that they could let this confused, lonely guy share one night of what they had. Then Dave would move on, and Kurt would get over this whole Dave thing.

With his arms wrapped around the boy he loved, Blaine had cried Kurt's name when he came because who else was there? Who else had there ever been?

But as it turned out, there was someone else. Not for him — Dave was only ever an interesting guy, mildly attractive for the sake of diversity, and a friend because circumstance made it so; but Blaine, coming down from his climax enough to notice that the hot water was beginning to run a little cool, heard Kurt's cry as he fell apart.

"I love you. I love you. David."

Blaine's arms were still around Kurt.

He was _right there._

Blaine slowly pulled away from his trembling boyfriend and stepped out of the tub — directly onto Dave's discarded trousers. He wanted to grind his heel into them, or drop them into the trash, or the toilet; instead, he picked them up and hung them neatly over the towel bar. He took a towel and unfolded it, holding it out of the way as he pulled back the curtain and turned off the tap.

Then he draped the towel over Kurt's shoulders. "Dry off. Once the adrenaline's gone you're going to be freezing."

He held a second towel out to Dave. "You two go ahead, I'll be out in a minute."

Blaine was grateful there was no light: modulating his voice was enough of a challenge. He couldn't imagine trying to school his features into some cheerful, post-coital smile just then.

Kurt and Dave brushed past him on their way out. Dave paused for a moment — on the brink of saying something too blunt, too soon, Blaine imagined — before following Kurt into the bedroom. Blaine shut the door, and sat down on the edge of the tub, shivering.

This was what he'd wanted. Everything was out in the open, the sexual tension would dissipate. There was every reason to think this was still going to work. People say all sorts of things in the heat of passion. There was no reason to worry about it, start thinking up miserable scenarios, sabotage everything.

He would just take a minute to collect himself and get over the surprise: take a deep breath. He reached into the tub and pulled out the sopping wet towel and used it to wipe the sticky residue of shampoo off his stomach. Then he wrung out most of the water and tossed it over the curtain rod to dry.

He took another deep breath and walked to the door, wrapping the last dry towel around his hips. He was fine. Things were fine.

The air of the other room felt cool on his damp skin. Kurt, or Dave, had turned on one of the bedside lamps and Kurt had slipped his underclothes back on and was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Dave, who had left his wet clothes in the bathroom, was wearing just a T-shirt and sat leaning against the headboard with a sheet drawn up to his waist. Both were looking at Blaine expectantly.

"That was fun. What else is on your agenda for tonight, Dave?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Blaine, I think we—"

"Kurt, I was talking to Dave. It's his big night. So, Dave: what else would you like to do?"

"You mean, like, _sexually_?"

"I mean, like, _sexually_. Yes."

Dave turned to Kurt, his expression uneasy.

"Blaine," Kurt began, but he was interrupted again.

"I mean, I think Kurt's been more than accommodating, don't you?"

Two sets of anxious eyes were back on him, and Blaine flashed his winning smile.

Dave looked down at his hands. "Yeah."

"Well, that means it's my turn to chip in. Not that it's a chore, mind you. Are you up for a second round — so to speak?"

He moved onto the bed next to a visibly uncomfortable Dave and sat facing him. He could see Kurt stirring out of the corner of his eye, but he kept looking right at Dave. Blaine placed a hand on Dave's leg and began to rub his way up Dave's thigh, through the sheet.

Kurt was beside them in a flash, "Blaine, stop it. We need to talk about what's—"

Blaine's hand had reached the top of the sheet, and he started to pull it down.

Kurt's hand closed over his and held it steady. "What is the matter with you?" he hissed.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. Isn't this what we agreed on?"

Blaine met Kurt's angry stare with a look of innocent curiosity.

Dave glanced from one boy to the other and said quietly, "You know, I don't… I think this is probably over."

Blaine wrenched his hand free of Kurt's. "And why is that, Dave?"

Dave's gaze travelled over Kurt's face as though memorizing it.

"I don't want to cause problems for you guys. Just a dream and all that, right? I'll be out of here in ten minutes."

Kurt's hand flew to Dave's so fast that Blaine laughed out loud.

Blaine threw up his hands. "Jesus, Kurt! No one could accuse you of subtlety. Why are you so fixated on this guy?"

"I'm not 'fixated.' I _care_ about David. You seem to be the one who's _fixated_. You dragged us into this situation tonight — with no warning. You set up this whole insane evening and… and, what? Am I supposed to watch you try to intimidate David into feeling like he's done something _wrong_, like he asked for any of this?"

"If you'd been paying any attention at all, you'd know that you're not supposed to choose _him_, Kurt! You're not supposed to be jealous of me touching _him_ — not after I've spent the evening watching you two hump like bunnies."

Kurt stood up. "Because you told us to! You've been jerking us around like some crazed puppeteer!"

Blaine couldn't keep the venom from his voice. "I don't actually remember having to twist your arm."

Kurt shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. After taking a slow, shaky breath, he spoke so softly Blaine barely heard him. "You can't blame us for what's happened here tonight."

"What happened, Kurt, is that you just told David Karofsky that _you love him_. Do you honestly expect me to believe that that little development somehow happened over the last two hours?"

Blaine looked at Kurt, pleased to finally see some sign of remorse on his pale face.

"That's not how that should have happened. That—" Kurt swallowed. "I'm sorry about that."

Blaine stood, as well, taking Kurt's hand in his and threading their fingers together. Gently, he prompted, "That's not how _what_ should have happened?"

Kurt looked down at their joined hands. "That wasn't the right time for that to be said. To either of you. It was selfish of me to—"

Anger washed over him. Anger and a feeling like someone's hand too tight around his throat. "Wrong answer, Kurt! How about, 'I didn't mean it'? How about 'I just got carried away'? How about, 'Of course I don't love David fucking Karofsky because I'm in love with _you_'?"

And then Dave, too, was on his feet, holding the sheet around his waist with one fisted hand. "I know this is fucked up right now, but you need to calm down and think about what you're doing."

"Don't act like an idiot. I'm not going to hurt Kurt."

Dave laughed quietly and shook his head. "Kurt could dropkick your ass from here to graduation, dude. I am _so_ not worried about Kurt right now."

There was no anger in Dave's face, Blaine noticed. Rather, he was looking at Blaine the way his mom had looked when he was twelve and he'd broken his arm: it was a bad break, and it had taken the doctor a long time to set the bone. Blaine's mom had stood by the hospital bed with her eyes all glassy and just stared at him, as if _willing_ him to get through the pain without freaking out. As if she could transfer her own strength to him if she just looked hard enough, long enough, and if he didn't look away.

Blaine looked away. "Fuck you, Karofsky. You don't get to be on my side. You don't get to worry about me. You don't get to pretend that seeing me and Kurt disintegrate isn't exactly what you want. Just, fuck you."

"No offense, Blaine, but you're an asshole."

He looked up at Dave, prepared to lay into him, but settled for rolling his eyes. "What gave it away?"

Dave sat down on the bed and nudged the back of Blaine's knee with his own. Blaine sat down. Kurt, his eyes red, slid down the wall until he was sitting at their feet.

"You know how when people are going to be therapists or whatever, they have to go through therapy themselves?" Dave asked.

Blaine nodded. "Is that true, though? I thought that was just something they tell people to keep the riffraff out."

"I don't know, but it sounds like a good idea to me. Anyhow, so all this time, since I lost my shit back in February, you've been tagging along with Kurt, watching out for him, keeping an eye on me. You did this 'quiet, observant guy' thing, and you were totally patient and don't think for a minute that I don't know it sucked for you to spend so much time with me."

"You were fine once I realized you weren't actually going to kick my ass."

"I may yet, don't get cocky. And I don't mean it was hard to be around me because I'm a dumbass who dresses badly and watches sports. I mean it was hard because you knew how I felt about Kurt. You could see it, even though Kurt here was pretty determined to ignore it."

"Kurt prefers to overlook difficult things. He's kind of a Pollyanna that way."

Kurt raised his hand in the air. "Right here. I'm sitting right here."

Dave went on, "But it sucked to be me, too, man. Because when you left, you took Kurt with you. And Blaine, I don't want to spend too much time stating the obvious, here, but I'm totally fucking in love with your boyfriend."

There was no sound from Kurt, but Blaine knew without looking at him that he would be crying.

Blaine nodded at Dave. "I know."

Dave smiled at Blaine, but his eyes were sad. "And all those months, while you were being a really decent guy, and keeping an eye on me, I was watching you, too. Because you were with Kurt, and Kurt is the most important person in my jacked-up world, and I have to make sure he's okay, right? So I'm going to ask you something that's been bothering me for-fucking-ever, okay? And you're going to take it the wrong way, and you're going to get pissed, but I've still got to ask. Ready?"

"Actually, a little fascinated. Go ahead."

Dave reached out and took Kurt's chin gently between his fingers, tilting Kurt's face up. "This guy right here? This beautiful guy with the face and the legs and the attitude? He's really smart, right?"

Blaine looked at Kurt, who was wiping his eyes with the edge of his t-shirt. "He's brilliant."

Dave's thumb brushed Kurt's cheek for just a second before he let go and turned back to Blaine. "Yeah, he is. So, dude, _why don't you ever fucking talk to him_?"


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, guys: updated! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews and I'll try to get Ch 11 up ASAhumanlyP!

Also: you all wish **_myownghost_** was your Beta.

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><p>Dave considered himself the Dean of Kurt Hummel Studies: he could look at Kurt's face and know if something was bothering him, hear his voice and know if someone had pissed him off, and tell by the way he moved if he was sad, or troubled. Granted, this was probably because of all the misery he'd caused Kurt, and all the time he'd spent thinking about it, regretting it, but the end result was that it was always a complete fucking shock to him when he saw how clueless Blaine seemed to be.<p>

Because Blaine? Was blowing it.

And man, there was a big part of him that just wanted to kick back and watch Blaine burn his house down. But Kurt lived in that house. And as much as Dave had spent the last couple of hours tortured by happiness, he still couldn't do anything that would hurt Kurt, or _not_ do something that would help. The high road, whatever. Noble sacrifice, whatever. Dave was just powerless to do anything else when it was Kurt's heart on the line.

So Dave calmed Blaine down: it was actually pretty easy. Therapy paid off in really unexpected ways sometimes…

When he asked Blaine why he never talked to Kurt, Kurt's mouth fell open into a little "O" of surprise. Blaine looked so genuinely confused that Dave felt sorry for the guy. After the blank expression passed over his face, though, Blaine's eyes were stormy once more.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Dave. Kurt and I don't have secrets from one another. I think this," he gestured at the three of them hunched around the side of a hotel room bed, "makes that pretty obvious."

"That's crazy, dude. That's, like, double speak. You don't have any secrets, but you rented this hotel room two weeks ago? You don't have any secrets, but you gave a surprise performance of a couple songs that you knew Kurt associated with me? You talk your shit out, sure, but he had _no idea_ you were going to go all cult-leader Kool-Aid tonight, purging him of his _confused feelings of desire_?"

Kurt snorted through his tears and smiled up at Dave. "You are such an idiot," he said fondly.

Dave's heart leapt into his throat at Kurt's smile; he wanted to pull the boy up into his arms again — hell, he wanted to just pick him up and carry him out of this cheap-ass Lima Holiday Inn — but he made himself keep talking. "The thing is, Blaine, I'm a _fucking idiot_ who'd never so much as gotten to second base, much less had a boyfriend, and I could have told you that this thing was going to be a train wreck tonight. I know Kurt could have told you, but you don't talk to him. You just… you decide what you think is going on and then try to spin it in your favor."

Blaine was breathing hard through his nose, his jaw set. At least if there was going to be a fight, Dave thought, he wasn't the only one not wearing underwear.

But when Blaine spoke, he was still wearing his 'Dr. Anderson' voice. "Then why did you agree?"

Dave shook his head. "To what?"

Blaine gestured to the room around them. "Why did you agree to be a part of this train wreck?"

Dave considered the question carefully, knowing Kurt would hear the answer as well. "Because earlier tonight, Kurt bitched me out for never going for what I wanted. And if my choice was between one messed up night where I got to touch him and hear him say the things he's said to me or spending the rest of my fucking life NOT doing either of those things? Easiest decision I've ever made."

"But if you knew Kurt would get hurt…"

Dave leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. "Yeah, that's my bad. I figured I'd be the only one limping out of here in the morning."

Kurt spoke, staring down at the floor. "I just don't understand what you thought was going to happen, Blaine. If you knew that David and I were going through some transformation—"

"God, will you stop romanticizing this? Why does everything you feel have to fall from heaven with a set of wings flapping on its back and a choir singing? Why can't you just call it what it is? You've got a hard-on for Karofsky. It gets you off that he won't move without you saying 'go here or go there.' It was sort of endearing at first, to watch you spoon feed him little bits of self-esteem and gay pride, but honestly? Since when do you have the answers, Kurt? A year and a half ago this guy was your worst nightmare and you were crying to me that he stole your first kiss — now you're letting him blow you in a shower stall like some fucking slut."

There was too much wrong with what Blaine had said for Dave to formulate any kind of rebuttal. He did, however, think his fist in Blaine's face would have the appropriate metaphorical value. Before he could manage that, though, Kurt shook his head very slightly, as if he'd read Dave's mind, which, Dave acknowledged, wouldn't really have been too hard to do.

Kurt's voice was very low when he spoke. "A lot can change in a year, Blaine. That's for sure."

Blaine lowered his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his damp and curling hair. "That was just frustration talking, not me."

Kurt pushed himself up so that he was kneeling in front of Blaine. "Actually, it _was_ you. It bears all the hallmarks of Blaine reasoning: you know what's going on better than anyone in the room; you alone can see or judge what's important; you get to decide what matters to me, or if I'm being too much of a princess to see things as they really are." He tilted his head to the side and studied Blaine. "Your hair looks better this way, you know that?"

Dave couldn't help it: he flinched when Kurt reached out to touch Blaine's hair. He tried to cover it up by glancing at the clock on the bedside table, but what difference did it make anymore?

Blaine took Kurt's hand. "Kurt—"

"Let me talk for a minute more and then I'm done. I love you, Blaine. For all of your flaws — and we've all got those — you saved me. You took away my loneliness. For the first time, because of you, I thought that I could be happy — and I really, really want to be happy, Blaine. This," Kurt ran the backs of his fingers against Blaine's cheek, "this isn't happiness. Not really. Not in the way you or I want each other to be happy."

"Kurt, you're not leaving me for this—"

"I'm not leaving you at all, Blaine. But let's leave _us_. I don't know how this is going to work, how I'm going to wake up and not call you first thing in the morning. I don't know how I'm going to get through the day without reaching for your hand. I really don't. But David asked why you don't talk to me and I think I know. Want to hear?"

Everything, all of the spark and anger and charm that made Blaine _Blaine_, seemed to go out of his face at once. He stared at Kurt; Blaine, like David, seemed to be holding his breath.

"You don't talk to me," Kurt whispered, "because you think you know everything about me. You think you see right to the heart of me."

"I don't, Kurt. I don't…"

"No, you don't. But it's not because you haven't tried. I know you try. When you're not being a total lunatic, I know you try. But how can you know what's going on with me when I haven't been honest for such a long time?" Kurt was openly crying now, and it was all David could do not to reach for him.

"You are so amazing, so gorgeous and talented and charming — how could I not want to be with you? And not being with you would mean being alone and it was so scary being alone, Blaine. Everything that wasn't great between us I just shoved out of the way. Pollyanna, right? Everything that hurt or made me feel small or stupid or just _wrong_, I put it aside because I needed us to be happy. But that's not the kind of happiness either of us deserves."

"Nothing I've done compares to what this guy did to you, Kurt. _Nothing._ But hey, you've got options now so fuck me, is that what you're saying?"

Kurt hung his head, but his voice was very clear when he finally spoke. "I'm saying that while it means everything to me that you're in my life, it's never really mattered _how_."

Dave squeezed his eyes shut because it was impossible to look at Blaine in that moment and not tell Kurt to make it stop. The guy looked like he'd been taken apart and put back together wrong, with his heart on the outside of his body. When Dave opened his eyes, Blaine was standing up, glancing around the room curiously.

"I think… I'm going to call a cab and come back for my car tomorrow. I just need to figure out where my phone is." Blaine took a few steps to where his clothes lay crumpled on the floor. Pulling on his pants, he reached into the pocket and withdrew his cell. "Ta-da."

"Blaine! Will you stop trying to be such a fucking _adult_ for a minute?" Kurt's voice was still full of tears, but Blaine refused to even glance his way.

"No, actually, I won't… You've said what you needed to say, and I get to deal with this however I want, Kurt. And what I want right now is to get dressed and get out of here so that I don't have to look at you, or him, for another. Fucking. Minute."

Dave watched Blaine gather up his things. He put his shirt and jacket on, but didn't bother to button them. Blaine grabbed his overnight bag with a wide, tight smile.

Without turning to face them, he said, "I'll leave you two the bottle. Seems like you'll be celebrating."

And then he left.

Dave had never felt less like celebrating. The part of him that wanted to cheer at the thought of a Kurt no longer tied to Blaine made him feel sick. This was not a victory. This was a train wreck. He hadn't done anything but watch it happen. Hell, he'd probably made it worse.

He looked down at Kurt, who sat on the floor in a loose knot of long arms and legs. "Kurt?"

"Can we maybe just go to sleep?"

Dave nodded. "I'm going to get a blanket, okay?" He walked to the closet, still holding the sheet around his waist, and brought down the linens Kurt had folded and put away earlier that night.

Kurt climbed up onto the edge of the bed and lay on his side, staring at the wall. Dave turned out the light and shook the blanket open, pulling it over Kurt's shoulders and drawing it close around his body. Then he flopped onto the very center of the bed that felt as vast as an ocean. He didn't want to move, for fear of brushing up against Kurt — he was pretty sure that if he touched Kurt right now, there was no way he'd be able to keep from pulling him into his arms and telling him he was sorry, he was sorry, he was sorry.

"David?" Kurt's voice was soft and small in the darkness; it made Dave shiver.

"Yeah?"

"Are you crying?"

He was, and though he hadn't realized it, it didn't really surprise him. "No. That would be totally gay."

He felt — he swore to God, he _felt_ — Kurt smile. "Are you scared?"

Dave shook his head, though he knew Kurt couldn't see him. "Yeah, maybe. That sounds about right."

Kurt turned to face him, his hand moving across the sheet until he found Dave's shoulder, his elbow, his hand. Holding it tightly, Kurt spoke again.

"When we wake up, we're going to have to talk about all of this."

"I know."

"Okay."

They lay there in silence for a long time, their hands bridging the distance between them, until Dave was sure Kurt had fallen asleep. He was almost there, too, when he heard Kurt whisper his name again.

"David?"

"Kurt?"

"I know you're not wearing any pants, so this might sound more forward than I mean it right this minute, but if I came over there, do you think you could just hang on to me without fear that I'll molest you again?"

Dave choked out a single broken syllable before he opened his arms and he was crying into Kurt's still-damp hair.


	11. Chapter 11

I can't believe this is finished. I'm going to feel lonely without these boys in my head all day! And three more weeks of hiatus! *shakes fist at Glee*

Maybe if someone asks I'll write another?

Thank you TEN MILLION TIMES to everyone who left a review. You made lowering my defenses and putting this out into the world so completely worthwhile. After you've read this last chapter, if you want to yell at me for where/how this ends, please do. If you want to request a smutty epilogue, we'll talk. If you want a random PWP during Winter Break when they're back in Lima for the holidays...

And **_myownghost_** is the greatest gift to grammar a person could have the good fortune to encounter.

Thank you.

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><p>There wasn't much difference between night and day in a room with black-out drapes, Kurt noted. In the space between, where he had pulled them open just slightly last night, a sliver of yellow light slipped into the room. It fell across the bed, and Kurt propped himself up on one elbow to follow it with his fingers as it travelled up the rumpled sheet and over David's chest before dropping off his shoulder. David didn't stir.<p>

"I know you're awake because you've stopped snoring. And you snore, David, just so you know. You really, _really_ snore."

David didn't bother to open his eyes. "I hope that fact didn't surprise you."

David's voice was bottom-of-the-piano-keys deep, and the sound travelled down Kurt's spine in a shiver. Kurt lay back against the pillow and sighed. "Not really, but I can't miss a good mocking opportunity. I sleep like the dead, so I didn't notice until I woke up."

David turned his head towards Kurt and opened one eye. "What time is it? Are they coming to kick us out soon?"

Kurt shook his head. "As humiliating as it is to admit, it's not even 8 yet. I think we were asleep by 12:30 last night."

David didn't look humiliated, though, as he opened his eyes and gazed at Kurt. He looked earnest. Maybe a little amorous. Decidedly scruffy. Kurt cleared his throat.

"So this is new, waking up with someone. In a bed. I've never done this before."

"Amateur."

"Oh, well. I'm sure with your vast homoerotic experience, there have been countless mornings such as this."

"Totally." David buried his face in Kurt's neck and growled against the warm skin of his throat. "I was a Cub Scout, Hummel. I've woken up with more guys than I can count."

Kurt closed his eyes and lifted his chin to give David better access. "I don't think you get full credit if you're in a sleeping bag."

"You sure?" David wasn't kissing, exactly. He was more… nuzzling, but the sensation of unshaven cheek against Kurt's neck was incredibly distracting.

"Okay, if you're in the same sleeping bag, maybe. But different sleeping bags? That's not even close."

David brushed his cheek against Kurt's ear, then exhaled heavily. "Well, damn."

Kurt had been awake for almost an hour, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do about everything that had happened between him and Blaine and David — he hadn't quite gotten around to what he was supposed to do _with_ David, yet.

"Hey, Aqua Velva. I think we need to review the situation before you have your way with me."

David's head jerked up. "Do I get to have my way with you, _after_? Because I was just trying to rattle you, Kurt. I'm not—"

Kurt kissed him very softly on the cheek. "Trust me, I'm thoroughly rattled. But we have to get a few things out in the open, and I need your full attention. Up!" Kurt pushed David just far enough away so that they could both sit, facing one another.

"You've had my full attention since the first time I saw you, but Kurt? I need to tell you, before you bring the hammer down with whatever you're about to say — and this is hard to get out because you're so beautiful right now — yes, even with your hair like that — I can barely stand to be in the same room with you, and my heart is beating half out of my chest because I can't breathe properly when you're this close to me."

"David—"

But David kept talking, his bright eyes sincere. "Last night was such a fucking mess, but I would do it again, and again, and again, if I thought that every time we went through that kind of shit together I would get to sleep with my arms around you and wake up to see your face, and _rattle_ _you_ with kisses and stubble."

Kurt wanted to say that they shouldn't just switch gears like this, from friends to lovers, overnight. They should slow down, and avoid making stupid mistakes with each other. But David's expression and the words tumbling out of him were burning a hole through Kurt's resolve.

"You know how I feel about you, but let me say it, because I am so afraid you're going to shut me down and I really want to say it. May I?" David held out a shaking hand and Kurt reached for it without hesitation.

"I love you, Kurt. God, I love you." Dave's eyes were shining with unshed tears, but Kurt had never seen a bigger smile on anyone's face, as though just getting to say the words aloud were ten kinds of Christmas. "You make me happy. You make me stronger. Just looking at you fills me with hope. But that's not the important part. The important part is that I make _you_ happy. I make _you_ stronger. I bug the crap out of you, and get under your skin and challenge you in ways that no one else does. I know it — before you ever said that you loved me, or needed me, I knew it — I knew it because I can't take my eyes off you and I have watched it happen, whether you wanted to admit it or not. But I promise you, Kurt, that if those things aren't still true for us when we're together, if being with me like this doesn't make you happy, if you are hurt or diminished in any way, I will be the first one to see it, and I will let you go. I will let you go."

Tears were swimming in Kurt's eyes before David could finish. "That is so not fair."

"That's because when I woke up this morning, and I realized that I was lying next to you, and that last night you came in my arms and you told me you loved me? Yeah, I decided that I'm kind of done playing fair."

"Pole position."

Dave nodded. "Pole position. Though that sounds really dirty, in retrospect."

Kurt laughed and let David drag him up onto his lap. "I haven't even brushed my teeth."

David gave Kurt a lopsided grin, then hooked an arm under Kurt's knees and tossed him halfway across the bed. He jumped up, pulling the sheet after him, and went to where his suit jacket was lying on top of the desk. He began methodically searching through his pockets.

"You did _not_ bring a toothbrush to prom. You really were a Boy Scout!"

David pulled a cardboard packet out of his coat and tossed it to Kurt.

"Gum?"

David gave him a stern look. "We have gum or we have a bottle of scotch. Don't get hung up on the details, Hummel."

Kurt pulled two sticks of gum out of the box and tossed it back to David. "Scotch sucks."

They both crammed gum into their mouths and spent a minute chewing frantically, never once taking their eyes off each other. Then David held his hand out and Kurt spat the gum into it. David stared at his hand for five full seconds, awestruck.

"What does it say about me that I've never seen anything sexier than that right there?"

"That your internet connection isn't as good as mine."

David laughed and hurried to throw Kurt's gum and his own into the wastebasket.

Kurt shook his head, wide-eyed and wondering at the giddy, inevitable David Karofsky who nudged Kurt back onto the bed and hovered over him with a grin.

"So, what was it you were going to tell me?"

He looked up at David. "We've done everything backwards."

"No way. We haven't even done everything yet."

Kurt brought his knees up and gently squeezed David's leg between his thighs, delighted by the groan he got in return. "How would you know?"

David rolled his eyes. "Please. I've actually been gay just as long as you have, dude, and despite your earlier comment, my internet service is awesome." David sat up for a moment and pulled his t-shirt over his head. The sheet slipped down and Kurt was visibly reminded that David had spent the night with nothing on but his undershirt. Kurt quickly put a hand over his eyes.

"Oh my God, you haven't been wearing any pants this whole time."

"You're not even kidding about that." Kurt peeked through a gap in his fingers as David rolled to his side and teased up the hem of Kurt's shirt. "You and me, Kurt."

Kurt closed his eyes, sucking in a breath as David's finger traced circles against his skin. "David—"

"Magical room, Kurt." David's breath was hot against his ear but Kurt was already grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt and pulling it off.

He pulled David down to him and kissed the side of his mouth, whispering, "When we leave here, we're going to go back a couple of steps, to the way it was before."

David's hand was moving over Kurt's chest and down his stomach. "Before, like last week? Or before, like the shower?"

"Before… like the dance floor. With occasional hallway. We'll work our way back to the shower."

There was a long silence as David's hand mapped Kurt's body in the indefinite light from the window. When David's fingers reached the waistband of Kurt's briefs, his deep, almost reverent voice asked, "Magical room?"

Kurt nodded, feeling his cheeks flush. How could he be blushing after everything they'd done in this room?

"You've got until check out at 10:30, Karofsky. Then we're PG-13."

There were a lot of thoughts pushing against the back of Kurt's mind: at some point, he'd have to work through the fall-out with Blaine; he'd have to think about August, and leaving for New York, and what that would mean for this new thing, this beautiful, blooming thing with David. But the thinking could wait. The thinking was pale and distant compared to the sound of David's voice whispering to him, and the feel of David's warm hands and laughter against his skin.


End file.
